Dragon Ball: Reborn, Season 1
by Jedabura
Summary: It's the story we all know and love reimagined and reinvigorated. This is the beginning of a long-form reboot of the Dragon Ball franchise with a greater focus on character development, foreshadowing, and world-building. This is Dragon Ball: Reborn!
1. Mission Statement

**Mission Statement:**

From its humble beginnings in the mid-1980's to its meteoric rise in international popularity throughout the 90's to its current resurgence in the 2010's, the _Dragon Ball_ franchise has endured as one of the most beloved media properties of all time. Countless professionals in the entertainment industry have been influenced by its story, itself a thrilling reimagining of the classical Chinese epic Journey to the West. It tells of the adventures of a young boy named Goku, who travels with his friends in search of the mystical Dragon Balls. As he grows into a man, he amasses great strength, eventually taking on the mantle of Earth's sworn protector.

Series creator Akira Toriyama is famed for making up most of the original manga's plot as he went along, preferring to fly by the seat of his pants than brainstorm the entire chronology beforehand. This paid dividends when fielding the pressures of keeping up with a then-concurrent anime adaptation. And while this afforded him no small amount of creativity and wiggle room (and is mostly to blame for _Dragon Ball_ 's anything-can-happen feel), this approach to storytelling is not without its drawbacks. There is very little in the way of foreshadowing throughout the multi-saga saga. Many fan-favorite characters gradually get pushed into the background, some fading into total irrelevance or utter obscurity. Several half-started character arcs are never resolved by series end. Much of the story begins to retread itself over time, with each major chapter inevitably devolving into a struggle against a Big Bad that our heroes can barely fend off until Goku is either healed or finishes training for in order to do the job himself. And perhaps the greatest disservice of all is that we are given a rich, complex fantasy world replete with its own history and mythology, but very little detail or explanation to flesh out and build said world.

Perhaps I am in the minority of lifelong fans who love the series dearly, though can view it through a critical lens. To many, I'm sure the story is perfect as is, and nothing need be changed. But for those like-minded to myself, this project will serve to reinvent _Dragon Ball_ for a new generation, while also pleasing its most diehard fans. Not only will it aim to retell and reinvigorate a timeless classic, but also to incorporate many facets of the series' widespread fandom, as well as the best elements from its many adaptations, off-shoots, and spinoffs. Most of all, this endeavor will live and die by its mission statement: that more than thirty years later, we can (and should) do better.

This is…

 **Dragon Ball: Reborn**

I know, I've probably already lost the handful of readers who are aware of my usage of the would-be title for the sequel to _Dragonball: Evolution_ which never came to be. Assuredly, that film is nothing if not a blight on the franchise and its fans. And yet, just like any extant piece of DB esoterica, there are nuggets— _germs_ of interesting ideas within it that will be incorporated (sparingly, and with any luck, intelligently) into this reimagining. The entirety of the _Dragon Ball_ mythos is up for grabs here, not just what's commonly considered canon or close to the manga.

Throughout this text, we will embark on a journey with Goku and friends. Familiar ground will be tread. Curveballs will be thrown. Together, we will chart the timeline of this new series in the order I imagine it would be experienced by a viewing audience. All reviews, questions, comments, concerns, critiques, and discussions are welcome (in fact, encouraged).

I hope you all enjoy. Thanks for reading!


	2. Season 1, Episode 1 - The Arrival

**Dragon Ball: Reborn**

 **Season 1, Episode 1 —**

 **"The Arrival"**

Goku admired himself in his bathroom's vanity mirror. He had never been able to appreciate the utility of such a luxury item until now. It was one of the few indulgences his wife Chi-Chi insisted upon as their house was being built. She always wanted to look her best, rare though it was she ventured out into civilization. Even rarer that they had company over. Nonetheless, she considered a wall-sized reflective surface with built-in lights and drawers essential to that end. Though Goku never saw the point before, he couldn't deny the grin plastered to his face as he turned several times, viewing himself from all angles.

 _Beats standing on the edge of the lake to see what I look like._

He hadn't worn his orange gi in over five years. Not since his winning bout at the World Martial Arts Tournament. In truth, this wasn't the same gi, instead a new one given to him by his master as a graduation present. The one he _won_ the fight in was in tatters, draped across an altar in his childhood home, only a stone's throw away. Atop that shredded outfit was his grandfather's urn.

Ever since his grandfather began training him at the age of two, Goku dreamt of showing off for him in some spectacular battle. This small tribute seemed the closest he could come to it. He needed to remember to light some fresh incense and pay his semi-daily respects before they took their leave.

Goku continued to ogle himself. It'd been so long since he wore the colors and symbols chosen by his teacher. The ones made famous by he and his fellow students' exploits. Emblazoned across his torso was a sleeveless orange fold-over jacket with blue trim. A set of concealed laces and a matching blue belt fastened the garment closed. Underneath was a sapphire undershirt whose sleeves protruded from beneath the orange shoulders. This left his arms bare down to the elbows, where navy-blue athletic tape ran all the way to his palms. His baggy pants were a darker shade of orange, bordering on red. He kept the hems of his pant legs tucked into his nearly-black boots, the footwear's edges outlined in yellow.

He ran a hand through his windswept mane of raven hair. It seemed to always want to point northeast for some reason. He debated trying to do something with it. He could always borrow some of the greasy stuff Chi-Chi put in their son's hair every morning. Then he remembered the verbal lashing she gave him last time he tried. His hair stayed down and tamed for all of ten seconds before it sprang back to its natural position with great force. This created a mess of splattered product all over the mirror which took nearly half an hour to clean.

"Goku? Why on Earth are you wearing that?" came the voice of his wife from outside the bathroom's entrance.

Chi-Chi was a little shorter than Goku with porcelain skin and black hair almost always tied in a tight bun. She was wearing her mauve dress—the one that accentuated her figure. This was part of her "looking her best" routine, but Goku couldn't fathom why it made such a difference. Putting on fancier clothes and layers of makeup didn't do much to change her looks in his opinion. In his head, he meant it to be complimentary. She always looked pretty to him. But over the years, he realized he wasn't a fraction eloquent enough to get said message across. Not without sounding completely offensive in the process. After a while, he stopped trying.

"I haven't seen Master Roshi in a long time, Chi-Chi. I'm pretty sure he'd wanna see me in the suit he made. Plus, Krillin and Yamcha are gonna be there. I was thinking we'd end up sparring a lil' bit."

"Can't we have a nice get-together with our friends without you guys turning it into a boxing match?" she groaned at him.

"We don't box…"

"You know what I mean. We're going for some drinks, a nice meal or three, and to catch up with old friends. Not to fight."

"I know, but I was hoping," he spoke, a sheepish look on his face.

There were so many things Goku didn't understand about the woman he married. Why was his passion for martial arts so damning? He wondered if it was a permanent roadblock for them. Something she simply would never understand about _him_.

"More importantly, our son's going to be with us, remember? He's too young to see you fighting, let alone fighting his godfather. It's too many things he won't understand that I'm not ready to explain to him."

"He's four! Give 'im some credit. Plus, my grandpa started training me younger than that, and I turned out fine."

Chi-Chi let the ensuing silence settle the issue for her.

"All right, all right, I'll change," he said, resigned to his fate. He went to untie his belt when her cool hand touched his wrist.

"No, it's okay. You're right, this _is_ a class reunion, right? An unofficial one, but still. And boys will be boys," she rolled her eyes. "Do me a favor, though? Don't fight around Gohan, okay? Please? If you guys have to spar, go somewhere else for a little while and do it."

"Deal!" Goku beamed, his former happiness returning to his face.

The man's joy was infectious. His wife couldn't help but smile back.

"Besides, I can't deny how good you look in it. Despite how loud it is," she said with a wink. Goku laughed and rubbed the back of his head. Even he could admit a subtle, tasteful outfit the Turtle Hermit gi was not.

"Now go make sure Gohan's ready while I freshen up."

The citrus-clad manchild might as well have skipped out of the room.

Most of the Son family's home on Mount Paozu was modestly decorated. It bore the minimalist aesthetic the vast majority of Capsule houses did. Round ceilings, wide open spaces, bubble-shaped rooms, the architecture on display very non-Euclidean. Goku figured his grandpa would've appreciated the lack of amenities, were he still around. He had been a simple man, after all. It was his firm belief one could get everything they needed out of life through nature and the pursuit of honing one's body. He felt people at large relied too heavily on the conveniences of modern-day living, hence why he shielded his grandson from such things for most of his childhood. This was both a blessing and a curse. On one hand, it cemented in Goku his innocent disposition, his drive to always do the right thing and dedication towards growing stronger. On the other, it made him ignorant of the outside world. For the longest time, he didn't even know what a girl looked like. Not until that fateful day when he was eight, and his life changed forever.

The childhood home he shared with the old man was his next stop after tending to Gohan. The weather-beaten shack was actually so close by, his adult dwelling practically annexed it. Much as he wanted to go over there immediately, Chi-Chi gave him a task to do. He knew the more important something was, the more of a problem he often had focusing on it. This was something they'd been trying to work on as a couple over the last few years.

Communication was never much of an issue between them. Goku had a terrible poker face, abhorred lying, and almost always said what he felt, usually to a fault. Physicality wasn't a problem, either—the four-year-old down the hall was living proof. In Chi-Chi's eyes, only two things needed ironing out in their marriage: Goku's bad cognitive habits, and making up for the lack of formal education his grandfather gave him. Though they both knew his slowness in that regard wasn't exactly something he could help.

Goku made a left before hitting his front door and strode the extra ten feet to his son's room. He made sure to knock at a decent volume before letting himself in. A child who only left infancy not too long ago didn't need much privacy, assuredly. Nonetheless, their son saw the token gesture as a sign of respect. Why should he have to respect them if they didn't return the favor in kind? At least, that's what the boy proclaimed last time his father entered his room without knocking. Chi-Chi was so proud of their progeny's vocabulary and applied logic. It was her dream their son would someday become a great scholar, perhaps a doctor or scientist. To this end, she taught him to read at only two years old. Goku found that a little unfair since he wasn't allowed to teach him about fighting. He also felt cramming his head with so much schoolwork was robbing him of his childhood, to a degree. But those protests usually went unsung. Now Gohan was four, and likely already smarter than both his parents.

 _Definitely smarter than me_ , Goku thought to himself with a combination of pride and envy.

"Gohan? Can I come in?" he asked through the door as he closed his hand around the knob.

"Yup!" exclaimed a high voice from within. Goku went inside.

Gohan (named after Goku's grandfather) stood in the center of the small bedroom. One would expect a typical four-year-old's room to have clutter. Toys, strewn-about clothing, juvenile art supplies. Not Gohan's. His was the portrait of immaculate organization. Everything was arranged on its proper shelf and with a purpose. Nothing was out of place or there by accident. His bed? Made to perfection, not a single crease in the quilts. Moreover, not a speck of dust was present. The living space looked brand-new, almost untouched, save for a few personal effects. Upon his desk was a framed family photo of the three of them, taken shortly after he was born. Next to it was a small black laptop, which was a recent birthday present from his aunt and godmother, Bulma. Goku felt guilty for accepting the lavish gift. Chi-Chi insisted it was something Gohan needed to further his studies, especially since they couldn't afford one on their own. Plus, Bulma was the heiress to the richest, most powerful company in the world. She probably wouldn't have batted an eye at buying the boy a thousand computers instead of one. This point was something Chi-Chi took every available opportunity to emphasize.

Goku's latest birthday present to his son was a three-wheeled bicycle. He'd fashioned it himself out of lumber. Woodworking was hardly his forte, so the front wheel wobbled more than it should've. Several of the flat surfaces remained unpolished, resulting in the occasional tear-eliciting splinter. But it rode. And Gohan loved it. It sat cocked to one side next to his desk, ready for its eventual next go-round the hilltops.

Goku knew the fact he tried his best and his boy appreciated the gesture should've been enough. Even so, every time Gohan completed a homeschooling assignment or played a game on his shiny new electronic toy, it hurt. He couldn't help feeling inadequate. A great many things in his life made him feel inadequate as of late.

"You about ready to go, kiddo?" Goku asked, shaking away his distraction.

"Almost," the little tyke said as he finished the Windsor knot on his tie.

His father frowned, unable to fathom why Chi-Chi was making him dress in a dark-green suit. He knew it was to make him look dressy, polite. That this _was_ a special occasion, and they should all dress accordingly. Goku thought the attempt only served to make the boy look like a ventriloquist dummy.

"Aren't you a little uncomfortable in that, bud?" Goku questioned. He wondered how he wasn't sweating to death in that white button up, tie, and sport jacket combo. He tried hard not to talk down to him, to use his normal speech pattern. Yet another in his long list of habits he was sick of being chastised for. The time he would soon get to spend with his friends and mentor could not come fast enough.

"It's okay. A little tight. I'm fine," Gohan replied, stretching his arms out to his sides, trying to let the fabric breathe.

"Wouldn't you rather put on something else? You sure you wanna look like your mom dressed you?" he prodded. He needed to tread lightly, otherwise, he'd be in for another argument the whole way to Master Roshi's.

"But she didn't dress me."

"I know. She still picked your outfit, though, right? If you could choose, wouldn't you put something else on?"

Gohan swiveled his foot on the hardwood floor. He clasped his hands behind his back, sank his chin into his small chest. This was the routine he put on every time he was thinking something he wanted to say. Often, the boy stayed silent, feeling it better not to complicate things.

"Well…I don't wanna make Momma upset. I guess I would add something if I could."

"What would you add, bud? Go ahead, it's okay!" his dad exclaimed, crouching down to speak to him at eye level.

The little boy hesitated for a moment before dashing to his closet. He knew exactly what he wanted, where it was. Goku never saw this kind of nervous fidgeting out of him unless he needed to pee and there was no bathroom in sight.

Gohan returned a few seconds later with two articles of clothing. He'd grabbed the long-bottomed, sleeveless ceremonial coat Goku handed down to him from when he was a boy. It was a bright yellow with red trim. A tad ostentatious, maybe, but it looked great on him. He pulled it on over his suit, reaching behind and clasping it closed. He then donned the matching red and yellow puffy hat. The one with the shiny orange bauble hot-glued to its top.

Goku smirked. A wave of nostalgia washed over him.

"That's more like it," he said with a nod, admiring his son's new look. Amazing what letting him express himself a little could do. It brought the whole ensemble together. Ever the boy genius, Gohan made two very simple alterations that solved the puzzle. Made the outfit whole. As a bonus, the hat covered up the awful bowl cut Chi-Chi gave him a week prior. It was unspoken between the father and son this could be nothing except a good thing.

"I feel better," Gohan said matter-of-factly. Goku stood and gave his shoulder a squeeze.

"Good," he affirmed.

As he looked down at the child, he stared at the orb on his head. The one that appeared almost iridescent in certain lights. The one with the four stars drifting inside, as if suspended in some sort of mercurial fluid. Images and memories came flooding back to him. Memories of being young, going on adventures with Bulma and the gang, seeing the world. Scouring the globe for the rest of those mysterious balls. Oh, how time flew by. Those days seemed like eons ago. His life had calmed down considerably since then. These days, a sparring match with his friends was the most excitement he could hope for, even as a father.

"Gohan, not you too!" his mother exclaimed from the open doorway. Goku tightened his lips, readying himself for the onslaught.

"It's fine, Chi-Chi. Let 'im wear what he wants."

"Besides, isn't it gonna be cold, Mommy?" Gohan asked as he shot a sidelong glance at Goku. It took him some thought to comprehend what he was getting at, then it finally hit him.

"Yeah! Chi-Chi, the Nimbus doesn't have a roof or anything like our car. And it moves pretty fast. You guys might be freezing if you don't wear coats. Especially if we wanna get there fast? We'll have to go even higher up," Goku explained, not sounding at all convincing. He was sure his wife could see right through the ruse, even if it was somewhat in the realm of plausibility.

"Gohan, fact-check your daddy. Is he right?" Chi-Chi asked with a monotone. She folded her arms, refusing to break eye contact with her husband.

"I think so. The greater the altitude, the thinner and colder the air, right? Combine that with high speeds and we might even need _more_ coats."

There was a pause before Chi-Chi sighed. At last, she acquiesced.

"All right. Fine. _I_ picked some of your outfit, _you_ picked some of it. What do we call that, Honey?" she asked, turning this into a teachable moment for Goku. She only ever called _him_ Honey. Gohan most often got the designation of Sweetie or Pumpkin.

Goku attempted to look at Gohan with only his peripheral vision, panic enveloping him. He saw the boy mouth a word, trying very hard to be subtle. He had to do it twice more before at last his father got it.

"Oh—a compromise!" Goku shouted, louder than he intended, shocked and delighted he managed to get it on his own. For the most part.

Chi-Chi approached and planted a kiss on his cheek, satisfied.

"Very good. Now, let's get going. I'm hoping Bulma brought quite the spread. Not like she can't afford to."

* * *

The Flying Nimbus was a curiosity, even to those well-versed in magical phenomena. Not even Master Roshi could explain its origins before bequeathing it to his star pupil. Both he and Goku knew only two things for certain about the mysterious yellow artifact: when used to fly, it would not expend the precious energies of its passengers, and only those pure of intention, noble of heart could ride it.

Goku was reluctant to use it for the trip to Roshi's. He knew it was childish. Still, it was one of the few relics left from his days as a traveling adventurer. He didn't like the idea of sharing it. Taking Gohan for the occasional ride was one thing. Chi-Chi coming onto it almost felt like a violation. He felt like some things needed to stay only his, even though he knew marriage usually entailed sharing everything. Or so he'd been told, ad nauseum. Often times, he felt such an arrangement was—at its very design—flawed, infringing on both their respective freedoms. Yet another point of contention he attempted to verbalize in the past. That ordeal only ended in tears.

Pure of intention. Noble of heart. Goku believed this caveat would spare him and his son the obligation of bringing Chi-Chi, and he wouldn't be saddled with any of the requisite guilt. He figured his wife's occasional meanness directed towards him, her singular focus on their son's schooling at the expense of other, finer things in life would be her downfall. That they'd be enough to make her drop right through the little yellow cloud if sat upon. He was even ready to feign disappointment if it happened. She'd have to realize she'd be better off staying at home, possibly inviting her father over for some company. It wasn't as if they could drive to their destination. That'd eat up their gas budget for a year, not to mention they'd stop in their tracks as soon as they hit water. Goku was strong, no doubt. But even he wasn't sure he could carry both his wife and son the remaining distance safely. Taking one of them at a time would be a pain and take forever. And while he was sure Bulma wouldn't _mind_ picking them up, it'd be a several-hour trip out of her way. And it would further diminish the time they would all have to spend together.

All should've gone according to plan. Though, as with many things, Goku was wrong. Chi-Chi was able to stay aloft on the Nimbus just fine. In retrospect, he didn't know why this surprised him. Her intentions, while lacking in broader horizons, were nonetheless noble. What was a purer pursuit than the happiness and prosperity of one's own child? At least he would still be able to enjoy the ride guilt-free, if a little smothered. Or, so he thought. He still ended up beating himself up over his secret internal plotting.

Goku possessed an unfortunate tendency to deflect, project, and misplace blame. He often resented Chi-Chi for things she couldn't begin to control. Foibles that were his and his alone. Each time this occurred, he was forced to confront the notion his wife was only trying to help him grow up, and he simply didn't want to.

Sometimes, he wondered why _he_ was still able to sit on the Nimbus without falling through.

The ride was a smooth one. Chi-Chi fretted over the dizzying heights for the first twenty- minutes or so. After a while, she calmed down. Gohan had no problem standing atop the Nimbus, being an innocent child. Even so, his mother didn't completely trust it. She forced the boy to stay in her lap with her arms wrapped around him. Goku sat cross-legged two inches in front of them, steering the vehicle with his mind. The soft, smoky puttering noise it emitted delighted his son to no end.

"How much longer, Honey?" Chi-Chi asked, trying to make herself heard over the high wind.

"We're almost at the ocean. Once we hit, should only be another hour," Goku said over his shoulder. This was a guesstimate, at best. He knew any answer sounding confident enough would satisfy her.

Chi-Chi nodded before lifting Gohan and scooting forward to close the gap between them. Goku found himself puzzled when he felt his boy's body squish gently into his back. Chi-Chi's hands came around front to rest against his broad chest, sandwiching the three of them. Once the initial confusion abated, he sank into the hold. He delighted in the feeling, the tenderness. He closed his eyes and smiled.

He wasn't sure why, but an odd feeling came over him. A warmness, a sense of safety and comfort. That wasn't the strange part. What was strange was it also felt sad, in a way. Like some voice outside his own and yet his own all the same was telling him to cherish this moment. To let his gripes with Chi-Chi and his disinterest in parenthood melt away, if only for a while. An abstract sense he might not get too many more of these perfect snapshots in time. Something imploring him to be present and mindful. To enjoy it while he could.

He lost himself in the closeness with his family. He drank it in, almost wishing it would never end. One of the few and far-between instances when his head was clear. When his thoughts didn't feel encumbered by his handicap. He could revel unabashed in what was his. The gifts given to him.

Too soon, the Nimbus decreased in speed, beginning its slow descent. Before long, it was mere feet above the gentle lapping waves, coasting to a stop. When Goku opened his eyes next, the salty spray of the ocean whizzing by was no longer hitting his cheeks. The cloud he sat on was now hovering in place at the shoreline of an island. An island large enough to hold a single landmark.

Kame House was always a special place for Goku and friends. It acted as a totem, of sorts. Four walls of white wood and salmon-pink plaster holding innumerable memories within. Its moniker was stenciled in gigantic red letters above the front door awning. The roof was a matching shade of coral. Surrounding the house was a lush green lawn which bled into the beach bordering the landmass. A trio of palm trees and pearlescent folding chairs dotted the front yard. One such seat bore the weight of the bungalow's sleeping owner.

Kame House. It was the home of their teacher. Their base of operations whenever a war needed fighting. A safe haven in their darkest hours. It stood the test of time, braving even the most tremendous of oceanic storms, the most brazen of attacks. It was a testament to the bond fostered by the Turtle Hermit style of fighting and the values it taught.

 _The pursuit of strength to protect that which matters most._

Chi-Chi put _her_ days of fighting behind her long ago. Nonetheless, she always admired the teachings of Goku's school. To think, a cantankerous hermit's defining life message was one of brotherhood and companionship. The irony was not lost on her.

Kame House. There was no other place like it. More than he had in quite a while, Goku immediately felt at home.

"Hey, Master Roshi!" Goku shouted with glee. He hopped off the Nimbus and bounded across the beach towards the old man. At the bellow of his name, Roshi jumped with fright. The dirty magazine shielding his face from the sun slid down to his chest.

"Eh? Goku, s'that you, m'boy?" the geezer muttered. He used a free hand to adjust his tortoiseshell sunglasses. Before he knew it, his favorite student was a foot from him. This caused the geriatric to drop from his seat in shock.

"Master Roshi, it's so great to see you!" Goku yelled. He laughed as he grabbed Roshi by the shoulders and yanked him to his feet.

"Criminy, Goku—yer gonna pull this old fool's arms outta their sockets!" Roshi snapped, still shaking away the disorientation of awakening from slumber.

"Sorry, Master. Guess I don't know my own strength," Goku breathed amidst his jubilant tittering.

"Never did," Roshi replied, letting his skin-mag fall to the ground. He patted the strewn-about sand from his crimson button-up and beige cargo shorts. "Now, lemme get a look at ya, sonny. Been too long."

Roshi banished the last of his delirium, his mental faculties finally back in full force. He gave his pupil a once-over as he circled him, looked him up and down. He ran a hand through the eggshell-colored beard that hung to his waistline.

"My, my. So much can change in five years. I remember when you were half as tall as me. Now I'm half as tall as you! _Heh_. The new duds look good on you. You should make a point to visit more often."

"I know, I know," Goku cringed, rubbing the back of his head with one hand. "Sorry about that. I'm so bad at keeping in touch. Just ask Krillin. I'm gonna try to get better about it, I promise."

"You're right, you are terrible at it," came a raspy voice from Kame House's doorway.

Goku hadn't noticed the short man with thick black eyebrows, flat nose and matching Turtle Hermit gi (save for the blue undershirt) leaning against the open screen door. He pushed himself off, letting it clack closed behind him. As he stepped off the porch, the shadow enveloping him receded. A flare of sunlight sparkled off his shaved head.

"KRILLIN!" Goku roared with delight. He dashed over to his best friend and picked him up by the waist. He twirled him around in the air much the way he did for Gohan. Krillin usually would've balked at such an over-the-top display of affection, not to mention it was a blatant exploitation of the duo's size difference. He pushed those thoughts away, elated to see his old pal again.

After he put him down, "Sheesh, I remember when Goku and _I_ were the same height, Roshi. It's good to see you, buddy."

"You too," Goku spoke. At this rate, he was going to develop premature laugh lines.

Goku looked over his shoulder after hearing the sound of a throat clearing. He'd forgotten he wasn't there alone. Chi-Chi stepped off the Nimbus before setting Gohan on the ground in front of her. She made sure to hold one of his tiny hands as they made their way closer.

"Oh, crap. Sorry, guys! Master Roshi, I know I've told you a lot about 'im, but allow me to introduce my son, Gohan!" Goku exclaimed, gesturing with both hands in the boy's direction.

"Well, well," Roshi said with a light cackle. He bent forward to get a better look. Chi-Chi released Gohan's hand so he could step forward unabated. The boy found himself fascinated, having never seen a person so old.

 _Doubt he'll ever meet anyone older_ , Chi-Chi mused to herself.

"Hey, Chi'ch," Krillin uttered with a smile. The two exchanged a warm hug.

"Hey yourself, Krillin. How are you? You give Goku so much guff about keeping in touch, but where've you been lately?" she responded with a lilt of playful sarcasm to her tone.

"I know, I'm sorry. Job hunting ain't easy. You know how it is," said Krillin as he mimicked Goku's nervous routine to a tee. They shared a laugh.

"Gohan, huh? Named him after yer ol' grandad, didja?" Roshi said to Goku after making a few funny faces at the kid, producing giggle after giggle.

"Yep. I wish he was here. I know he would've loved to see you," Goku said, a hint of solemnity in his words.

"Ah, you don't hafta tell me. But the days when he was my student were long, long ago. Today's about you boys, the new blood. Not geezers like me an' him."

"Hello, Master Roshi," Chi-Chi piped in as she delivered a quick bow. Goku and Krillin noted their own impoliteness and followed suit in unison. Roshi nodded at Chi-Chi while adjusting his glasses and fluttering his white eyebrows. His lecherous gaze lingered on her ample figure a little longer than she would've liked.

"Gohan, don't forget your manners. What do we say?" said his mother.

Gohan placed his hands flat on his sides and performed a far more reverential bow than the rest of the group.

"Greetings, Master Roshi. My name is Gohan Son. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

"Nice to meet you, m'boy. Did yer mom write that script for ya, or didja come up with it all on yer own?"

Goku and Krillin went wide-eyed. Gohan only tilted his head, not quite grasping the question.

Chi-Chi narrowed her gaze before bending forward. She plucked the nudie magazine from the ground and rolled it into a tight tube.

"What can I say? I raised him right," Chi-Chi said before she swatted Roshi's bare scalp. He yowled with pain and rubbed the spot sure to become a goose egg. She dropped the magazine back to the ground, its usefulness expended.

"How ya doin', Gohan? You remember your uncle Krillin, doncha?" the boy's godfather asked as he tried to diffuse the tension. Gohan grinned wide and stuck out his arms. Krillin understood this as his cue to hoist the little one up onto his shoulders.

Chi-Chi entwined herself around Goku's arm and rested her temple against him. Krillin was her favorite of Goku's boyhood friends, next to Bulma. She loved watching him and Gohan play together. She knew the perpetually-single young man would make an excellent father someday. She smiled while she took in the adorable sight.

"Say, Goku, is that what I think it is on his hat?" Roshi asked. He pushed his glasses to the bridge of his nose, the soreness of his forehead subsiding. Krillin tried his best to look up and

through the spiderweb of minuscule fingers around his face.

"Huh. Yeah, isn't that your guys' Dragon Ball? Pretty unsafe to let him walk around with it. I mean, isn't that what happened last—"

Chi-Chi shot Krillin a look that he _felt_. He made eye contact with her as she shook her head. Krillin sucked his lips and nodded in recognition.

"One of the reasons _I_ wanted to pick his outfit today. Neither of my boys would have it," said Chi-Chi. She tried not to say it too loud, lest Gohan hear. He was too busy examining the six dots branded to Krillin's brow to comprehend what they were talking about anyway.

The group didn't notice the approach of the cream-colored Capsule Copter. Not until the roar of its engine and the whirr of its blades were deafening. It did an impressive bank around the perimeter of the island. A wave of sand and aerosolized seawater shot in every direction. Goku, Roshi, and Chi-Chi coughed in protest. Gohan took his hands off his godfather's head to shield his ears from the upsetting noise. Krillin shrugged his shoulders to pin the child's legs in place while he threw his hands upward. He managed to block the sand and saltwater from hitting the little guy. He ended up taking a faceful himself instead.

The copter came to a halt on the edge of the beach as its rotor disengaged. The passenger's side door swung open, letting out an attractive young woman. She had teal hair that stretched to the nape of her neck. She wore a crimson headband, dull brown clam-diggers, black and yellow tennis shoes, red socks, and a two-toned cream and cobalt sweatshirt with a gray tank top beneath, layered over a navy-blue sports bra. The Capsule Corp. logo shone on her belt buckle. She exited the vehicle already in mid-argument.

"You are such a jerk! I told you they'd all be outside. Why do you always have to show off for everybody!?" Bulma screamed. She slammed the door shut behind her. The driver's side swung open and her boyfriend Yamcha spilled out. He nearly fell into the water, barely catching himself with the open door in the nick of time.

"Sorry, babe! You never let me drive. I wanted to have some fun, thought they'd enjoy the show," he guffawed. His surfer bro cadence was perplexing, definitely not typical of the desert he grew up in.

Yamcha was about as tall as Goku with long, wild black hair. He too wore a matching Turtle Hermit getup, though his omitted the undershirt like Krillin's. Setting himself apart was the alternating blue and white athletic tape running up his wrists, as well as the X-shaped scar on his left cheek. That one was still dark and prominent. The one going down his right eye was healing quite nicely, only visible anymore if you were looking for it.

"Bulma, Yamcha!" Goku exclaimed between hacking fits.

The couple trotted up the beach as everyone else was recovering from the effects of the mini-hurricane. Bulma embraced everyone but Master Roshi in a death grip of a hug, one by one.

"I am _so_ glad to see you all! Yes, even you, Roshi," Bulma said. She had a cocked backhand prepped for the old man in case his senses forsook him and he decided to get grabby. "Sorry my 'better half' over here decided to dust you all," she continued before delivering Yamcha a dead arm. He winced it away and gave Goku, Krillin, and Roshi fist bumps. He waved wordlessly at Chi-Chi.

Two more passengers exited the helicopter. One was a squat, long-eared pig walking on hind legs. He wore an asparagus green button-up coat and slacks with matching beret. Floating in the air behind was a blue-gray and tan cat with an especially lengthy tail.

"I…wasn't aware Puar and Oolong were coming," Chi-Chi said to no one in particular.

 _A pair of talking animals who can transform into any shape they wish. Won't that be fun to explain to our son?_ Chi-Chi pondered.

"They're our friends, too," Goku spoke low.

"I know. I just wish someone would've told me so I could've prepared Gohan."

"Prepared him for what? They're harmless!"

"They're _magical creatures_ , Goku. We agreed Gohan would have a normal upbringing. Even riding the Nimbus is pushing it."

The husband and wife stopped arguing after realizing how quiet it became around them. Everyone was staring, including Oolong, who tapped his cloven foot with folded arms. Puar's midair drift came to a rest on Yamcha's shoulder.

Evidently, the couple's tiff had escalated above whispers.

"I am. So sorry," Chi-Chi said, her normally pale face bright red.

"It's okay, Chi'ch. Let's go inside and catch up," Bulma spoke. She made a come-hither gesture as she headed toward the front door.

"Hey, what about the eats?" Roshi grumbled.

Bulma responded by removing what looked like a makeup kit from her coat pocket. As she popped the clasp and opened it, its contents were revealed not to be a smattering of beauty products. Instead, a row of pill-shaped Capsules laid inside. She removed one with an orange label, thumbed the button and tossed it in front of the boys. No more than two seconds later, the Capsule exploded—not with fire and smoke, but steam. Once the cloud cleared, a six-foot-long table remained in the Capsule's place. It held enough food to feed an army. Everything from racks of barbecued ribs to rows of sub sandwiches. Plates of bacon, trays of grilled veggies, pots of soup, and massive bowls of rice and noodles rounded out the buffet.

"Dig in," Bulma said with a wink.

The gaggle of fighters didn't even hear her over the sound of their own smacking jowls. They attacked the smörgåsbord before them with reckless abandon. Bulma seized Chi-Chi by the wrist and tugged her to the door.

"Don't worry, I saved a Catering Capsule for us."

"You always were the smart one," said Chi-Chi with immense gratitude.

"I try. Now, all we need is my godson. Gohan!" Bulma yelled over the cacophony of gnashing teeth and smacking lips.

She spotted the boy a few feet away from the tangle of hungry men. He was near the displaced cat and pig, looking confused about what he should be doing. Once he heard his aunt's call, he turned and dashed towards her. She squatted down and opened her arms to catch him when he leaped the two steps leading up the porch.

"There he is! There's my sweet little munchkin!" Bulma exclaimed. She squeezed Gohan tight and showered his doughy cheeks with kisses. With child in tow, the ladies made their way into Kame House, Puar and Oolong deciding it best to follow in after them.

* * *

Now, _this_ was the sort of get-together she had in mind.

Chi-Chi and Bulma sat side-by-side on Master Roshi's futon on the second story of Kame House. They made sure to stay on the absolute edge, and for good reason. They were wary of how (and if) the old pervert maintained the cleanliness of his sheets.

Kame House's roof began at the second story's floor. This caused the walls of the bedroom to slant upwards until the ceiling became one long corner. At their backs was the sole upstairs window. Should they have desired, they could've moved to the other end of the bed and watched the commotion going on outside. In the backyard was the gaggle of testosterone-infused fighters. The sparring was already breaking out, the boys eager to test out their newest techniques on each other. But the girls intended to get away, to talk and to kick back.

In front of them towards the middle of the room was their own private Catering Capsule worth of snacks. Atop the table was a bounty of cheeses, a bevy of succulent fruits. Moist cakes dotted the tan surface, along with punchbowls of salad. Bordering those were trays of cocktail shrimp and a veritable mountain of finger sandwiches. Most important of all were the six bottles of wine the ladies intended to hoard all to themselves. Bulma also brought a cooler stored in another DynoCap, filled to the brim with beer and sodas for the boys to enjoy later.

Chi-Chi couldn't begin to fathom what made those wonderful Capsules work the way they did. She hoped Gohan would someday soon have the knowledge to school her a bit in the subject. The only things she knew for certain she gleaned via osmosis from news, magazines, and books. And of course, the poor attempts at explanation Bulma attempted in the past. The blue-haired bearer of seven PhDs wasn't great at dumbing things down. She struggled with making hard science intelligible for a layman. Her father excelled at it, which likely contributed to their company's runaway success.

Bulma's father developed the namesakes of the Capsule Corporation when she was a girl. The tiny devices capable of shrinking and storing most anything took only a few years to catch on. They were starting to become all the rage as Chi-Chi was attaining adolescence. By the time she was grown, they changed the landscape, literally and figuratively. It was a technological revolution, unlike anything the world had ever seen. The Capsule Corp. design sense which Dr. Brief pioneered came to proliferate every facet of society. Everything was round, celebrating curves and decrying angles. Anything built henceforth kept miniaturization and portability in mind. Sleek, stylish, trendy gadgetry blurring the lines between machinery and wizardry. Even city planning took into great consideration how best to accommodate Capsule tech. No other private organization ever wielded so much power, so much political influence. If the Brief family so wished, they very well could've enslaved the world overnight. Some might suggest they already did. The people of Earth were clueless as to how lucky they were Capsule Corp. collectively desired nothing more than the betterment of mankind through science. And Bulma was the new face of the business, set to inherit it all once her dad finally decided to retire. The company's prospects for the future looked bright, especially considering Bulma was every bit the genius her father was, and then some. For this and more, she was quite the celebrity. She was also the world's most sought-after bachelorette. Combined with Yamcha's stellar baseball career, it was a wonder they ever got a moment's peace.

Chi-Chi ate with ravenous intent. Only after her third plate and second glass of wine did she notice Bulma watching her with a wry smile. She swallowed her latest gulp, a bashful look creeping across her face.

"Sooo, when's Gohan's little brother due?"

"I'm not pregnant, I'm hungry. I'm sorry. I'm being so rude today."

"It's fine, Chi'ch!" Bulma chortled, "Eat up. There's plenty more where that came from. There'll be lots of leftovers for you guys to take home, too. Besides, I know you must be craving something other than fish."

"Ugh, tell me about it. It's all Goku ever catches for us! At least it's healthy. He hates hunting anything that looks cute, so we never get anything in the way of variety."

"Don't you guys have a lot of bears in your neck of the woods? I've heard they can be pretty tasty if cooked right. We both know Goku's taken down much worse."

"He thinks bears are cute, too! Especially when they're angry," Chi-Chi tried to say with exasperation, but couldn't help laughing. Bulma joined her in the fit.

Off in the corner, Gohan sat on the hardwood floor. He clapped like mad as Oolong and Puar took turns entertaining the child. He would call out a type of animal or household object, and the pair would race to turn into a facsimile of it. The faster and more accurate transformation won the round. Most of the time they were spot-on but adding the speed element tripped them up once in a while. This provided the boy even more amusement. They also made sure to put a friendly face on anything that appeared dangerous or scary.

Chi-Chi grew restless as she took in the display. Bulma noticed her discomfort and took her free hand.

"I promise you, it's okay, Chi'ch. You know Puar loves kids. And Oolong might be from the Turtle Hermit School of Inappropriate Behavior, but he would never do anything to upset or scar your son."

"I know. They're fine, really. And I'm getting used to them being around Gohan. It has nothing to do with their character."

"Then what is it?" Bulma pleaded, concern in her eyes. She knew Chi-Chi well enough to know something wasn't wrong, though not exactly right, either. This was a skill Goku, for all his prowess, had yet to master.

Chi-Chi sighed. "It's just…ever since last year, Goku and I made an arrangement. We agreed we weren't going to expose him to any more magical stuff. Not until he was older and could properly contextualize it. I want him to be a scientist, Bulma. Like you. Scientists need a fundamental understanding of how the world works. What's possible and what isn't. It frames their minds, gives them a sense of placement and reality. That's what all the books we've gotten him teach, right? How do magical creatures fit into it all? Things walking and talking but not human? Beings among us who might as well be gods? It all flies in the face of what he's been learning. I can't help feeling like it's going to damage him in the long run."

"Uh-huh. How 'bout you tell me what's really wrong, Chi'ch?" Bulma said with narrow eyes. Chi-Chi furrowed her brow, uncomprehending.

"W-what? What do you mean?"

"You know exactly what I mean. 'I'm a scientist, too', remember? You think all the things we've been through, all the things we've seen have damaged me?"

"Well. No. Still. You didn't get exposed to any of it until you were a teenager."

"So? Age doesn't prepare you for wish-granting dragons. Giant robots piloted by little blue dictators. A green demon who spits out monsters. Maybe it's not the world we were born into. It's definitely the world we live in. Best Gohan get used to it now while he's still young. Why make him totally realign all his beliefs during his formative years? I mean, that's kinda supposed to happen, but about normal things like your body, what you wanna do with your life, yadda-yadda."

Chi-Chi stayed quiet, contemplating.

"Magic didn't damage me, Chi'ch. If anything, it woke me up. Showed me what's truly possible. I wouldn't want to go back to being in the dark about it all."

"I suppose you have a point," she agreed. Bulma winked at her.

"Course I do. Comes with the territory of being the smartest chick on the planet."

Chi-Chi rolled her eyes. "Always so humble."

The ladies downed the rest of their wine glasses. A few feet away, Oolong botched turning into a sofa, coming out somewhat pretzel-shaped. Gohan and Puar rolled on the floor, inconsolable.

"So, what's really up, babe?" Bulma asked again as she poured them each another glass.

It took a long time before Chi-Chi answered.

"I thought I was going to lose him, Bulma. Last year…he almost died."

"He never came that close," Bulma interjected. Chi-Chi waved it off.

"Don't sugarcoat it. Goku's not good at holding back details. He told me everything."

Bulma winced. She made a mental note to have Krillin do the debriefing if another such situation ever occurred. Kami forbid.

"It's okay. I've come to terms with it. Much as I can, at least. So, my son got kidnapped and I couldn't do anything to save him. So what? Happens, right?"

"No. It doesn't just happen. Not to regular people. Sadly, goes along with the territory of who we are. The circles we run in."

"Y'see, that's it, though. We're _these_ kinds of people. We spent our youth going on crusades, risking death at every turn. Spitting in the faces of maniacs with designs on the world. Those sorts of things don't get forgotten. They don't go away. Not unless you make them.

"After we got Gohan back, I couldn't bear the idea of that being the _first_ time. The first time I would have to endure wondering if I was ever going to see my little boy again. I made Goku swear to me it would be the last. We'd never put our son in danger, keep him away from that life. We would get his tail surgically removed, rather than purified. We'd keep our Dragon Ball for ornamental purposes and nothing else. We wouldn't tell Gohan what the world is really like until we were ready," Chi-Chi breathed. She tossed around a thought before groaning in frustration. "Fine, until _I'm_ ready. The more magic we keep from him, the less can come to hurt him."

Bulma looked into her lap. She swirled her wine, listless.

"Yeah. I guess you've got a point, too. I don't think it's quite right to overprotect him. But I'm not a mom. I can't know how it feels."

At this, Chi-Chi forgot the weight on her shoulders for a moment. She put her hand on Bulma's this time. She flashed her a reassuring look.

"You will. Someday. If you want to."

"Pffft," she raspberried, "I'm too busy to have kids. I'm not even so sure I want them. Definitely not with Yamcha. Unless he decides out of the blue to do a lot of growing up."

"He could. Look at Goku. Even though he drives me up a wall sometimes, he's come a long way. Even as a little girl, I knew he was never going to be my picture of a 'perfect' husband. I tried to talk myself out of him on more than one occasion. He has a way of worming his way into your heart, though."

"You can say that again," Bulma smiled.

Chi-Chi cocked her head. This got her curious.

"Wait. Did you have a crush on him?" she asked, not with anger, but incredulity.

"Nah. Not really. Maybe a tiny bit. Okay, a little. You spend so much time traveling the world with somebody, some weird feelings are bound to crop up. Nothing ever happened, though.

"One day, the last World Martial Arts Tournament rolled around. It was the first time I'd seen him since his big growth spurt. My first thought was, 'Mmm, what a man!' I guess it would've been the first time for you, too, so you can relate. For a hot second, I juggled the idea of ditching Yamcha and trying my luck. He and I'd been together almost a decade by then, and he never changes. Needless to say, I was a little frustrated.

"Then, you came along. You and Goku hadn't seen each other in forever, and the look in his eyes…it was the first time I'd ever seen him _stunned_. And I've watched him fight literal nightmares. I didn't have the heart to try anything afterward. I knew you guys were made for each other. Imperfections and all."

Chi-Chi somehow managed to look flattered and sad at the same time.

"Sorry."

"Don't be. Never would've worked out between us. I'm too smart for him."

Chi-Chi chucked her on the shoulder.

"What, and I'm not?"

"No, you are! Exactly my point. If you're too smart for him, imagine how insufferable it'd be for me," Bulma said, trying to save face, failing. Chi-Chi considered grabbing one of Roshi's pillows and swatting her upside the head with it.

"Okay, let's be real. Goku? Not the sharpest tool in the shed. Don't take offense, you know it's true. And I've known him and palled around with him longer than you. I've got seniority here," Bulma spoke. She held up her index finger to halt her, having an idea where Chi-Chi's thoughts were drifting to. "Yamcha's not a whole lot better, though. And at least Goku's heart is in the right place. At least you _know_ he cares, even if he has issues showing it."

Chi-Chi nodded. She rolled her shoulders, the blush returning to her face.

Bulma smiled. She ran a hand through her hair, lost in memory.

"He's a fixer-upper, for sure. All the same, don't take your man for granted, Chi'ch. What Goku might lack in brains or common sense, he more than makes up for in moral fiber. I've never met a person so _good_. A person so just. Somebody who'll risk life and limb to do the right thing. Someone who'll push past every limit he has because he doesn't have any. It's why you can trust him with your life. It's why whenever it hits the fan, he's the guy you want by your side. Why I knew he'd bring Gohan home safe. Sure, I was scared, too. But I've never doubted that man or his abilities for one second. He can do anything. It's one of the many reasons I love him. It's not a romantic love, y'know? I love him as a person, for who he is. What he is. What he stands for. What he's done.

"Listen. You're the best mom anyone could ask for. You fought with all your heart to protect your son, even when you knew you didn't stand a chance. You want only to give him everything you and Goku never had. There's nothing better you could aspire to. That's why I think you and Goku actually complement each other super well. Why you make great parents. It doesn't matter what you do or don't shield Gohan from. So long as he has you two."

Tears welled up in Chi-Chi's eyes. She sniffled and wiped them away with the back of her fist.

"I'll drink to that," she said as they clinked glasses.

* * *

Hours later, once the sun went down, the whole of the gang was reunited, save for Master Roshi. The adults all sat on the white rug in the center of Kame House's living room. The coffee table before them was littered with the combined remains of another buffet, as well as innumerable empty alcohol containers. While the grown-ups continued to share in drink and merriment, Gohan sat on the crimson L-couch with a can of sugar-free soda, more than a little bored. Puar and Oolong flanked him on each side but were themselves too inebriated to provide much distraction for the boy.

"And another thing," Oolong blathered. His husky voice made his slurred speech even less intelligible. "Would it kill you people to have some common decency? Do you have to bring pork products to every one of these outings?"

"Come off it, Oolong, you know we don't mean anything by it," Yamcha laughed. The pig rounded on him.

"It's insensitive is what it is! How would you feel if I brought human jerky with me every time we all hung out?" he cried with indignation.

"Are you sure you're even a pig?" Bulma asked with a smirk.

"What's that supposed to mean?" he snorted in derision.

"Now you mention it, I've never seen another pig with ears so long," Goku wondered aloud.

"How dare you!?"

"He makes a point, my friend. You can turn into pretty much whatever you want, right? How do we even know that's your true form?" Bulma continued, egging him on.

"The audacity of you cretins!"

"It's his real form, I can attest," Puar squeaked.

"I don't even wanna know how you know," Yamcha snickered, prompting Puar to nip at him.

The laughter filling the room was cut off by the screen door swinging open. Master Roshi reappeared wearing a large backpack resembling the shell of a sea turtle. He made his way across the room in silence. Once at the edge of the sofa, he bent his knees and carefully dropped his backpack before sitting down cross-legged. A moment later, the pack's straps unfurled on their own, revealing themselves to be four large, leathery appendages. The shell righted itself on the carpet before a beaked head emerged from the front with an audible _pop_.

Gohan gasped. He seemed to be the only one surprised Roshi's backpack was, in fact, a living, breathing loggerhead turtle.

"Gohan, meet Turtle. Turtle, meet Gohan," Roshi croaked as he snapped open the tab on a fresh can of beer.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Gohan. I knew your namesake quite well. Your great-grandfather was an extraordinary man," Turtle spoke, his delivery slow and measured. He stuck out a brown, scaly flipper for Gohan to shake. The boy hesitated to stick out his own hand.

"It's okay, Pumpkin," Chi-Chi urged him. With that, he accepted the handshake enthusiastically. The creature bowed his head and flattened himself a bit on the carpet, gesturing for Gohan to mount him. The boy eagerly climbed atop his back, now sitting at eye-level with most everyone. He lightly patted the shell beneath him with glee.

"Wow, can all animals talk?" Gohan asked the group. A few of them chuckled, others rubbed the backs of their heads, unsure how to answer. Such a revelation would certainly fly in the face of the diligent training he underwent during infancy regarding which types of beasts made which noises.

"Only the really special ones," Krillin piped in, much to Chi-Chi's relief. Not that the answer wasn't true, but it was a far more succinct explanation than the one she'd been conjuring.

"Glad you could make it, Turtle. How've you been?" Goku asked in-between hiccups.

"Oh, I've been all right. Mostly just swimming, relaxing on the beach, doing my best to keep this old man true to his vows."

"The hell you say!" Roshi barked. Turtle cocked his head in surprise, a gesture far more exaggerated than it would've been on a person due to his long, twisty neck.

"Don't you play innocent with me, Master. The magazines you read? The way you carry on around women? It's no way for a teacher to act! It's not befitting a man of your influence."

"My business is my business. You're lucky I don't turn ya into soup for yer sass!"

The gathering became a chorus of laughter once again. Yamcha leaned back and crushed the empty can in his grasp.

"Boy, if this doesn't remind me of old times," he sighed happily. Bulma lightly scratched his shoulder. The nostalgia bug was biting her, too. A smile stretched across her face as she observed the room, every inch of it exuding memories like water leaking from a wet sponge.

"Tell me about it. Don't worry, Turtle. We'd never let Master Roshi go all Bandit King on you," Krillin said, patting the weathered sea creature on the head. He closed his eyes and threw himself into the pet.

"What's a Bandit King?" Gohan asked. Without thinking, Krillin explained.

"He was this gigantic bear—I think he was a bear. Right, Goku? Yeah, he was this huge bear in a suit of armor with a super big broadsword. He used to roam around Mt. Paozu, thought he was gonna take over the whole place, become 'King of the Forest' or some such nonsense. Had a hankering for turtle meat, happened upon our buddy here, almost swallowed him whole. Your dad set him straight, though."

Chi-Chi cleared her throat in protest. Krillin didn't notice it.

"Really? What did he do?" said Gohan, begging him to continue.

"Why, he beat 'im up, of course! Mind you, your dad was like, eight years old, barely taller than you, and the Bandit King was _at least_ ten feet tall. Maybe fifteen? I dunno, wasn't there, but I've heard the story dozens of times. Anyway, Goku saved Turtle's life. He was so grateful, he wanted to return the favor. Bulma and your dad were traveling together, see? They were both small and light enough to fit on Turtle's back, so they rode him all the way here to Kame House. Then he introduced them to Master Roshi."

"Wow," Gohan marveled.

"Oh geez, don't remind me of that day," Bulma groaned as she slapped her forehead with her palm.

"Why? Just because you flashed the old pervert for his Dragon Ball?"

"KRILLIN!" Chi-Chi shouted. She slammed her fist on the table and created an avalanche of drink containers. Most of the group jumped with surprise, including Gohan. It took only a moment for Krillin to realize his error.

"S-sorry, Chi'ch."

"With my camera! He meant flash him with my camera, haha! Y'see, Roshi wanted a nice picture of the two of us, Gohan. To…to commemorate the momentous day we all met," Bulma fumbled. Krillin nodded furiously, snapping his fingers in her direction, corroborating her white lie. Yamcha rolled his eyes.

"Uh-huh. Totally," he said under his breath.

"I was a crazy teenager, leave me alone," Bulma admitted through grit teeth, her cheeks flushed with red.

"What's a Dragon Ball?" Gohan spoke up again. The group was muted by the question. All eyes were on Chi-Chi.

"It's, uh…they're…they're nothing, Gohan. It's a. A snack. A snack your mom makes sometimes. Dragon balls. They're spicy," Goku trailed off, dejected. He felt terrible about lying to his son but knew telling him the truth wasn't worth the barrage he'd suffer at his wife's hands as a consequence.

The uncomfortable silence endured. It was as if all the good tidings were sucked from the room in an instant. Chi-Chi periscoped around, taking note of everyone's disappointed demeanor. Each time she met someone's gaze, they broke eye contact, preferring to stare down at their laps. The only one who didn't look utterly crestfallen was Gohan, who mimicked his mother's motion, though his actions were out of curiosity. He couldn't understand why everyone seemed to shut up so suddenly, why the fun came to an end. Why no one was answering his question.

Chi-Chi felt ashamed. She chewed her lower lip, her eyes growing glassy. She hated being such a buzzkill. She only wanted what was best for her son. For the first time, she was wondering if shielding him so thoroughly was really the best way to achieve that.

"Chi-Chi," Bulma began. She rested a hand on her shoulder and gave it a squeeze. "Remember what we talked about? It's okay. He'll be fine. He's surrounded by people who love him. Let us tell some stories."

Chi-Chi lowered her voice conspiratorially. She didn't know why. Gohan was staring directly at her and likely doing his best to catch every word coming out of her mouth.

"But if we talk about Dragon Balls, that'll lead to you guys talking about searching the globe for them. That'll lead to all the things Goku's done, and then…there's no telling where it could go."

"So? Is that really so bad? Gohan's never heard anything about his dad when he was his age. He barely knows him. That's not right, and you know it."

Chi-Chi's tears threatened to bubble over. She raised her head and stared at Goku, who stared back. He gave her a sad sort of half-smile.

She turned over a great many things in her mind, then. She gnashed the material of her dress between her fingernails, having the most intense internal debate she'd ever experienced.

She took one more look around the room. No one looked away this time, for they were all eagerly yet patiently awaiting her reply. Her line of sight came to rest on her son, still atop Turtle's back, leaning forward as if being closer would allow him to hear his mother's words before everyone else.

She let out a great, shaky breath.

"Okay. You win. Carry on," Chi-Chi said. A tear escaped the side of her face. She wiped it away quickly. She refused to admit to anyone, especially Goku or Bulma as scary as that was, there was something deeply fulfilling about relinquishing a bit of control. She felt like she'd been closing her fist tightly for over a year and finally released it.

She carefully eased herself backward and relaxed into the sofa cushions. Bulma grinned at her while nodding. She moved her grip from Chi-Chi's shoulder down to her right hand and grasped it tenderly.

Goku beamed.

"Sorry about that, bud. Needed the okay from your mom first."

Gohan whipped around on his shelled perch. Goku bent closer to him.

"The Dragon Balls aren't a snack. They're small orange orbs that have _stars_ inside them," Goku told the boy as he gesticulated. "In fact, you've got one on your head right now."

Gohan's eyes went wide. He tugged off his hat and spun it around to get a better look.

"That's the four-star ball. Each Dragon Ball has a different number of stars in them. There're seven in all. And guess what?"

"What?" Gohan pleaded, hanging on his father's every word.

" _They grant wishes_ ," Goku spoke, barely above a whisper. Gohan trembled with glee.

"Really?"

"Yes, really. They're scattered all over the earth. Once you bring all seven together and say the magic words, the Eternal Dragon appears to grant you one wish, whatever you want in the whole world."

"Nuh-uh!" Gohan protested, sure his dad was pulling his leg.

"He's telling the truth, lil' buddy," Yamcha confirmed. He scooted closer to join the circle forming around the boy.

"It's actually how your dad and I met," Bulma interjected, picking up the tale. "When I was fourteen, I got it in my head it'd be a great idea to collect the Dragon Balls so I could wish for a boyfriend."

" _Eww_ , why would you wanna do that?" replied Gohan as he stuck out his tongue.

"Because I was young and dumb."

"If there's one thing you've never been, it's dumb," Krillin interrupted. Bulma blushed. "In fact, your auntie Bulma's so smart, she invented a special radar. It detects where the Dragon Balls are."

"No way!"

"I know, right?" Krillin went on. "That's how she was tracking them down. One day, she ended up at the foot of Mt. Paozu, searching for the very same ball on your hat. That's how she and your dad found each other."

"The four-star ball's a family heirloom," Goku blurted. He paused to check with Chi-Chi to make sure he'd chosen the correct word. His wife smiled and nodded in approval. "Yeah, an heirloom! It used to belong to your great-grandpa. Then, when he died, he passed it on to me. Bulma wanted it, so I thought it might be fun to accompany her on her journey to find the rest. From then on, the Dragon Team was born!"

"For Kami's sake, we were _never_ called the Dragon Team," Bulma argued.

"Better than the name you came up with. What was it again? The 'Z-Warriors'? What does that even mean?" Goku clapped back.

"It makes sense! We started as a trio—you, me, and Oolong. Three lettered coordinates. The one pointing up, the _Z-axis_ , represents elevation. I climbed up a mountain to find the Dragon Ball. And while you were definitely the team's muscle, Oolong can turn into useful stuff, and I fancy myself as quite resourceful. Three members, three coordinates. Hence, Z-Warriors."

"Still doesn't make a lick of sense."

"Oh, shut it. Gohan gets it, don't ya, Munchkin?"

"Before long, they made it to me. I had a Dragon Ball," said Roshi. "I knew from the moment I met 'im there was something special 'bout yer dad, kiddo. He was the strongest boy I'd ever seen, could do things you can't even imagine!"

"Really?" Gohan asked again. This response was becoming a recurring one.

"He beat me up when I turned into a demon and started attacking a village," Oolong chimed in.

"You attacked a village?"

"It's a…long story," the pig trailed off.

"And a vast oversimplification," Bulma retorted.

"Your dad and I used to battle each other all the time," Krillin joined, clapping his godson on the shoulder. "We weren't always the best of pals. Way back when I left the monks who raised me, I came to Roshi for training. Your dad was already here, though. Learning from the master. I was so jealous, so pig-headed—"

"—Hey! I represent that remark!" Oolong oinked.

"Sorry, so _stubborn_ , I saw your dad as nothing but competition. Boy, did we fight in those days."

"I'd say you pranked me more than fought me," Goku corrected him.

"Only because I knew I could never beat you."

"C'mon, we were way more evenly-matched back then."

"He fought me, too! When I was nothing but a thief living in the Diablo Desert. Your dad is by far the toughest fighter I've ever seen. I was lucky to come out in one piece!" Yamcha added. Gohan looked like his head was going to explode.

"It's because he's my star pupil!" Master Roshi bellowed as he ascended the table. He kicked over several containers of food, cans, and bottles in the process. He pumped his fist towards the heavens as he roared loud enough for all to hear.

"Goku! The true emblem of what the Turtle Hermit school is all about! He's braved perilous storms, fought off evil tyrants, saved the world from terrifying monsters more times than you can shake a stick at!"

The friends laughed together uproariously, save for Gohan. He couldn't do anything except look in awe at his father. His eyes remained huge, full of wonder and adoration. It was a side to his dad he'd never known, never been allowed to be privy to.

Gohan slid down off Turtle's shell and clung to Goku's pant leg, refusing to take his gaze off him.

"Looks like you've got a new superfan," Krillin mused.

Goku smiled and ruffled his son's hair. He looked over at Chi-Chi. She sat with her arms folded, taking it all in. She still had a smirk on her face, begrudgingly enjoying the trip down memory lane.

For hours more, the gang traded innumerable tales from their shared youth. They regaled the epic yarn of how Goku single-handedly prevented the Red Ribbon Army from enslaving the world. The story of how he lost to Master Roshi in disguise the first time he competed in the World Martial Arts Tournament. They even touched on Goku's big win at the tournament years later against the nefarious offspring of Lord Piccolo. But the days of yore were filled with far too many tales to tell the young child in a single evening. After a while, their full bellies and intoxication got the best of them.

Late in the night, Bulma and Yamcha spooned at one end of the living room's L-couch with Oolong and Puar coiled into a pile at their feet. Krillin laid at the other end, arms dangling off the edge. Roshi snored loudly, his legs on the floor, his upper body splayed across Turtle's shell. This would surely be murder on his spine the next morning. Meanwhile, Goku was on his back atop a pile of blankets on the carpet. Chi-Chi was wrapped around one of his arms and legs. His other side was presently occupied by Gohan, who hadn't left the spot since the glamorous retelling of his dad's younger days began.

Goku found himself unable to sleep. Instead, he gently stroked his son's hair, watching him while he rested. Chi-Chi stirred, then raised herself up halfway to check on their boy.

"Look at him. Hard to believe we were angels like that, once upon a time," she whispered.

"Yeah," Goku agreed.

As he and his friends shared in the act of astounding the child with fantastic saga after saga, Goku felt something strange and new. As his son adhered to him, refusing to let go, fatherly pride welled up in him unlike ever before. For once, he didn't feel inadequate, in over his head, or like a slow-witted buffoon playing at being a man. Having someone admire and idolize him so greatly felt indescribable. More so than ever, he wanted to protect, safeguard, and cultivate this treasure he was blessed with.

"Chi-Chi," Goku spoke. She had already laid back down but rotated her gaze to look up at him.

"Yes, Honey?"

Goku couldn't remember the last time she felt this warm, couldn't remember the last time she seemed this happy with him. He supposed it came from the mutual relief of neither of them needing to hide who they were around their child anymore.

"Thank you. For tonight. I know it wasn't easy."

Hearing this caused Chi-Chi to furrow her brow. She elevated herself on her elbow so she could properly see him. Their faces were mere inches from each other. She looked into his near-black eyes for a long time, trying to discern where the sudden burst of empathy, where the emotional insight came from. She took his free hand and placed it on her cheek.

"You're right, it wasn't. You deserved it. And our son should know how wonderful his father is."

"I love you," Goku said as he caressed Chi-Chi's face. He surprised himself with how much he meant it, the depth of the feeling. Chi-Chi kissed his thumb as she teared up again.

"I love you, too."

They laid there together, awake for several more minutes. They kissed for a while. The rowdy teenagers buried deep inside them considered doing more but didn't want to wake the others. They _really_ didn't want to wake Gohan. Instead, they held each other as they drifted off to a blissful rest.

Before sleep overtook him, Goku decided he was going to put more effort into improving his and his wife's relationship going forward. He would listen more, be there more, try his best to be the sort of husband he knew she wanted. He would not let his handicap get the best of him. He also made a silent vow to be a better father to Gohan. To co-parent more. To contest Chi-Chi less. To uphold his commitment to protecting him from all that might do him harm, especially since he was now allowed to see his father for who he truly was.

It was a beautiful dream.

* * *

The sun rose the next morning, as expected. The sea was calmer than it should've been. More accurately, the ocean was not calm, rather still. The light spreading in every direction was harsh, exacting. Inky shadows stretched across the beach as the fire in the sky reached higher. The brisk winds typical of the area were nowhere to be found. And all the while, not a soul in Kame House stirred. Not until a pair of boots touched down onto the grass just beyond the front porch.

Goku bolted upright. His outburst jarred Chi-Chi and Gohan awake.

"Honey? What's wrong?" his wife pleaded, trying her best to see through the fog of her receding dreams. One by one, the other denizens of the house came to, all looking to their friend for answers. Slowly, the Turtle Hermit and the rest of his students began to sense something was amiss as well.

"Someone's here," Goku breathed as he turned his head towards the door, his body trembling with primordial fear.

 **To Be Continued…**


	3. Season 1, Episode 2 - The Alliance

**Last Time on…**

 **Dragon Ball: Reborn**

 _It's been five years since Goku's fearsome battle against the offspring of Lord Piccolo at the World Martial Arts Tournament. With his childhood dream of winning the gold accomplished and no new adventures to embark on, Goku resigned himself to a quiet life with his family. But this new status quo was briefly halted by an impending reunion. The former students of Master Roshi's Turtle Hermit school of fighting and their loved ones were gathering for a long overdue party. While best friends Goku, Krillin, and Yamcha sparred with their old teacher, Bulma and Chi-Chi decided to split off, taking Gohan, Oolong, and Puar with them. Chi-Chi proceeded to bare her soul to her son's godmother, expressing her fears of the magic inherent to their world, blaming it for Gohan's kidnapping a year earlier._

 _Later on, the group finally convinced Chi-Chi to soften on her agreement with Goku that they keep magic out of their son's life. This allowed them to wow the little boy with stories from their shared youth, among them the legend of the Dragon Balls, as well as how his father saved the world many times over. A newfound hero-worship began to bloom in the child, along with a welling of fatherly pride in Goku. His new, boring life was starting to seem less so. Maybe being a good husband and father could be exciting enough adventures on their own._

 _Just as things were starting to look brighter, a malevolent presence arrived on the beach outside Kame House…_

 **Season 1, Episode 2 —**

 **"The Alliance"**

 _This power…it's unlike anything I've ever felt before._

Goku approached the front door. He hesitated as he closed his hand around the knob, much as he did each time prior to entering Gohan's room. He swallowed hard, that bolt of fear refusing to ebb out of his system. His heart thumped like mad in his chest, loud enough he was sure the others could hear it. Everyone was on edge, hyper-aware of their surroundings.

It was a blessing and a curse, the fighters being so in-tune with their senses. On one hand, it was the best barometer for incoming danger anyone could ask for. On the other, once those instincts flipped on, there was no turning them off.

Goku held his position at the door. He turned to address the group.

"Chi-Chi. Take Gohan upstairs. Right now. Stay away from the window. Keep out of sight."

"Why? Goku, what's going on?" Bulma asked, worry spreading across her face.

"I don't know. I need you all to trust me. Please," Goku replied.

Chi-Chi studied his face. In the five years since they married, never once did she see such concern from him, let alone the twelve years they'd known each other. He was never this quiet and reserved, either. It wasn't his style. He was the kind of guy who would run into most situations brazenly, fueled by sheer adrenaline and bravado. The fact he of all people looked scared terrified her.

"Okay," she shuddered. She knelt down and scooped Gohan into her arms, then dashed up to the bedroom. Goku permitted himself a sigh of relief, fleeting a sensation as it may be.

"Krillin, Yamcha, I want you on either side of me. Roshi, you come in from behind. No one makes a move until I say so. Bulma, Puar, Oolong, you're my eyes and ears—"

"—Why, because mine are so big?" Oolong joked. The pig was already a walking, talking sarcasm factory. His tendency to make light of a situation often ratcheted up to eleven when he was nervous.

"Not the time," Goku breathed.

It was rare he ever got this serious. He often had a penchant for gallows humor, was usually the first to make a crack in an awful situation. The gang could only remember two occasions when this wasn't true. Both times, it was either the fate of the world or the life of his son on the line. In times like these, it was as if he became a completely different person. Like the accident that defined his youth never occurred. This was Goku at his most fit, his most capable. His change in demeanor was as inspiring as it was haunting.

Krillin was the first to step forward. He narrowed his eyes and wrapped the straps of his azure belt around his fists. He flexed and yanked the straps tighter.

"We're with you, Goku," his friend affirmed.

"'Til the end," Yamcha vowed, slapping his bicep, pumping himself up.

"Thanks, guys. Now, as I was saying, Bulma—you're my eyes and ears. I want you hidden inside the doorway, behind the screen. I'm hoping whatever this thing is, it can't sense energy and won't know there's anyone in the house. If anything happens, you signal Puar and Oolong. You two will be at the bottom of the stairs. If Bulma gives you guys the go-ahead, you get up there as quick and quiet as you can. Turn into something, anything to hide Gohan and Chi-Chi. You keep them shielded. You keep them safe."

The floating cat nodded. The long-eared pig gulped. His jowls glistened with sweat.

"You got it, Goku," said Bulma.

He took one more look around the room. Master Roshi retrieved his walking stick at some point. It had a large, bulbous wooden end carved into the shape of a tortoise that doubled as a weapon. All the Turtle Hermit students held not-so-fond memories of getting smashed upside the head with it. This served as both a motivator and method of discipline in the old days. Their teacher's looks were deceptive; he was spryer and nimbler than most any enemy or uppity student gave him credit for.

"Do we need to worry about Turtle?" Puar croaked as an aside.

"Nah, he's gone fishin'. Should be gone 'til late tonight," Roshi whispered.

"All right…let's do this," Goku commanded, leading the charge. He opened the door and stepped out onto the porch. He made sure to leave enough room behind him for the others to get into formation.

It took a few seconds of scrutinization until he realized there was a body attached to the 6'4" mane of raven hair at the edge of the beach. As the gang fanned out from under Kame House's front door awning, the mysterious figure shifted its stance, revealing itself to be a man. His back was to them, but his elbows protruded from his sides at shoulder height, denoting folded arms. The ocean lapped at his feet, his locks swaying in the breeze. Only when the others stopped moving did the man turn to face them.

"Oh, good. Don't mind me, just admiring the scenery. Really is a beautiful planet. I was wondering if I'd have to come in there and get you," said the man as he flipped some wayward hair out of his face.

Goku guessed the guy was some sort of fighter, given his muscular build and imposing aura. He possessed an olive complexion much like his own, also sporting doughy cheeks and a pointed chin. His prominent brow framed his dark-brown eyes. One of them was covered by what looked like a slice of translucent green glass attached to an earpiece. His clothing appeared to be a one-piece gray jumpsuit with defined musculature and attached boots. His arms were bare but for the fitted gloves around his hands. He sported red accents around his thighs matching the strange, furry sash around his waist. The shoulders and abdominal muscles of the jumpsuit were adorned in what could only be bronze armor.

The man smiled. He unfurled his arms and took a few steps forward. Krillin, Yamcha, and Roshi each braced themselves. Goku stuck out an index finger at his side, stopping them.

The man froze less than a foot away. He gave Goku a once-over and chuckled to himself.

"My. You certainly have grown into the spitting image of Bardock. Though you're less, shall we say, weathered? This planet must suit you."

"What're you talking about?" Goku spoke under his breath.

"I mean it as a compliment, of course. You got lucky. I got the shallow end of the gene pool. I've got much more Gine in me."

Since they were so close, Goku needed to extend his neck to look at the man head-on. He was only a little taller, but his height compounded with his physique warranted keeping on one's toes.

The man threw his arms around Goku in a bearhug. The group scrambled into a circle around the duo, though didn't attack. Goku still held his hand out to his side in supplication.

The hold was tight, though not crushing. This wasn't meant as an attack. The guy was clearly strong enough to do some damage with such a move if he wanted to. No, this wasn't intended to start a fight. It was a display of power without a show of force. Even so, there was something else behind it Goku couldn't quite place. He still needed to keep the muscles in his arms, chest, and stomach tight to keep them from hurting.

"It's been such a long time. It's good to see you, Kakarot."

"What?"

The man released Goku and took half a step away. He kept one hand on his shoulder.

"Damn. You don't remember me, do you? I knew they sent you out too young. Mind you, I've always had gripes with the Infiltration Protocol. I've never believed it's worth the wasted childhood and squandered upbringing to send a baby. Especially when a full-grown Saiyan can get the job done in a matter of days, tops."

"What're you saying?" Goku questioned, growing more confused by the minute.

"Don't fret, I'm not here to reprimand you. If anything, you're living proof why the Protocol should be abolished. Someone also didn't do their due diligence in vetting this world. Obviously, the Earthlings are more resourceful than we anticipated. I convinced the top brass you could probably use some help. I was mostly interested in the family reunion, but killing two birds with one stone is never a bad thing."

The group convulsed at the word "kill", however, remained silent.

Goku shrugged the hand from his shoulder. There was a brief flash of indignation on the stranger's face. Goku noticed it and immediately did his best to keep everyone calm.

"Listen. We don't want any trouble. You've got the wrong guy. I'm not this 'Kakarot' you're looking for," Goku spoke at a measured pace.

The man tilted his head and wrinkled his brow.

"You have to be him. You're the strongest being on this planet by a decent margin. Not as strong as I hoped you'd become, but still. And you look _exactly_ like Bardock."

"I don't know who Bardock is. I'm sorry," Goku breathed, trying hard not to sound hostile.

The man was quiet for a long time.

"I'm not stupid. I know who you are. Either you're lying to me for reasons I cannot begin to fathom, or…" He trailed off. He proceeded to look around, made eye contact with each of the other fighters. "Are you protecting these people? They don't mean anything to me, Kakarot. I'm not here to harm them. Well, I mean—"

"—Look, man. How many times we gotta tell ya? This is our friend; his name is Goku. G-O-K-U. He's not this Rotten Kaka dude. Get it through your thick skull, a'ight?" Yamcha hollered, ever the boisterous one. Krillin, Roshi, and Goku all swung their gazes at the loudmouth, aghast.

The mystery man frowned yet didn't budge. The hairy girdle around his midsection pulsated, then uncoiled of its own accord, revealing itself to be a tail. It curled and uncurled in the air, now aimed directly at the former desert bandit.

"Yamcha, that's enough," Goku spat. The man turned his attention back to him. "Sorry about my friend. He likes to talk smack. He didn't mean anything by it. I'm sure we could help you find the person you're looking for if you like."

Each time Goku spoke, it only made the stranger more irritated. And while the Turtle Hermit graduate continued to feign ignorance, he now knew he was missing a piece of the puzzle. This was no simple case of mistaken identity. As soon as Goku saw the tail (in fact unable to look away from it), it was evident there was some connection between them. He never met another person who had one. No one who looked human, in any case.

As if reading his thoughts, the man craned his neck to see around Goku's backside.

"Tell me you're tucking yours into your clothes. Tell me you didn't lose it," he said through grit teeth.

Goku swallowed hard. He absentmindedly touched the spot above his buttocks where his own tail used to be. At last, the rest of the group seemed to realize what this bit of back and forth meant. Their defensive poses eased as they too became transfixed by the undulating tail of their visitor.

"My tail was removed. Purified. By Kami."

"By who!? How could you let someone get rid of your tail? You can never reach your full potential now! Do you have brain damage or something!?" the man shouted.

Everyone except Goku retook their fighting stances, though a strange tremor went through them all as soon as the visitor mentioned brain damage. Instead of assuming the position, Goku's look became one of embarrassment. Without intending to, his hand flew up to the top of his head and massaged it unconsciously. The mystery man watched him do it. At once, his look of anger mutated into one of dismay. Understanding, at last, washed over him.

"That's it. That's it, isn't it? Let me see that spot," he demanded. He stepped forward and put a hand around the back of Goku's neck. He resisted, though was caught off guard by the move. The rest of the Hermit students sprang into action. As soon as they did, the green eyepiece on the man's face began to blink and emit sound wildly.

"Give it a rest, I'm not going to kill him!" the man roared. Goku groaned in protest, then decided to give in.

"Everyone, s-stand down!" yelled Goku.

The warriors heeded his words—not throwing any punches, not backing off, either.

Goku relaxed his neck and shoulders. He allowed the man to bend his head forward. A rough, gloved hand combed through his thick black hair, parting chunks of it until he unearthed what he was seeking.

He stared at Goku's scar. The one he received after the accident which nearly took his life when he was so young. The man ran two fingers across it. Goku could tell from the motion the stranger was trembling.

"Well. That explains a lot," he mumbled. He released Goku from his grasp.

"You're the one who better start explaining, pal," growled Krillin.

"Yes, I suppose I should," the man agreed. "You might want to sit down for this… _Goku_." He grimaced when he said it as if the name didn't taste right in his mouth.

"I'm f-fine where I am," Goku replied, averting eye contact, his hand having gone back to covering his scar.

"Suit yourself. I'm going to sit," the man said as he dropped to his rear. He stuck out one leg and bent the other to rest his arm upon it.

"Start from the top," said Goku.

The man took his time responding. He wanted to carefully formulate his words, decide how best to break this news. He decided giving it to him straight was really the only option.

"You are not of this world. You are a Saiyan from the planet Vegeta. Evidently, whatever gave you that scar erased your programming. And any trace memories you might've possessed." He spat off to the side, making sure everyone knew he was bitter about that last point. "It's a rare occurrence. Not unheard of. The subject almost always assimilates with the population, however unintentionally. I never thought it would happen to you."

Naturally, this was an insane notion, and Goku wasn't buying it. Not completely. At least, he didn't want to. What he wanted was to stay upright, to maintain his position of dominance. He always got defensive whenever anyone made him feel self-conscious about his injury. Something about the man's change in demeanor disarmed him. And he liked to think he was pretty good at being able to tell when someone was lying. As crazy as this revelation was, it carried an unmistakable air of truth.

Goku crouched to speak with him on equal footing, much as he did with Gohan so as not to talk down to him.

"Okay. Let's pretend for a minute I believe you. You still haven't told me who you are or what you want."

The two men locked eyes. Were Goku to decide to take inventory of his friends' expressions, he would've noted their former incredulity. Incredulity which gave way to uncomfortable contemplation. They too were wary to believe something about their friend that sounded so nuts. But as their comrade concluded, they couldn't deny the guy didn't seem to be deceiving them.

"What are we to each other?" Goku murmured.

The gang's skepticism was soon replaced with shock, the realization blooming on their faces. Apparently, they pieced it together before the man even said it. After all, it was only becoming more evident with each passing minute how much they looked alike.

"My name is Raditz. I'm your big brother."

* * *

Goku reeled. He reconsidered his stance against sitting and chose a spot two feet away from Raditz.

"You're…you're my brother?" he stuttered.

"Yes. Your elder by six cycles. Like you, I am a Saiyan. As humans are the dominant lifeform here, we were the dominant lifeform on Planet Vegeta. Ours was a proud race, one of the most powerful in the universe. Your lineage is to blame for your natural strength, what I assume is your aptitude in battle. A pity then you lost your tail," Raditz exhaled. The others began to take seats around him.

"What do you mean, 'was' a proud race?" Krillin questioned.

"Our homeworld was destroyed. Not long after Kakarot was sent off it as an infant."

"How?" Yamcha piped in.

"That detail is less important than others at the moment."

"W-why do you keep calling me K-Kakarot?" Goku interjected, his voice shaky. He was becoming overwhelmed. The information overload was beginning to take its toll on him.

"It's your birth name. The name given to you by our father, Bardock, and our mother, Gine. Unfortunately, they perished in the destruction of our home planet. There aren't a great many of us left. I'd prefer to call you by your Saiyan name, as opposed to the one you took to fit in amongst these. People," Raditz said, his words coated with resentment.

"I g-guess it's all right," Goku spoke as he nodded. It took great effort to categorize and organize all the new information in his head. He had a brother. He had a mother, a father, deceased as they may be. His whole life was changing, irrevocably. He wished Gohan and Chi-Chi were there to comfort him. Even Bulma would've been great. Anyone to help talk him down, reassure him everything was going to be fine, that he was still the man he thought he was. Someone to make sense of these revelations in ways he knew he would never be able to on his own.

He couldn't risk bringing them out yet. Not until he was completely sure it was safe and Raditz meant them no harm.

"What's the tail got to do with all this?" asked Roshi, deciding it was his turn to speak up.

"All Saiyans are born with tails. It is both our greatest source of strength, as well as our greatest weakness. Without it, a Saiyan would have to work twice as hard to amass power."

"Never been much of an issue for Goku. He's been training his whole life. Why do you think he's so much stronger than us?" Krillin retorted. Raditz shrugged.

"Be that as it may, it's a handicap. Not dissimilar to your _other_ disadvantage. My turn. Please, tell me how it was you received your scar."

Goku's hand was on his head before he was even aware of it. His eyes darted to his lap.

"I can fill in the blanks there," Roshi added. "Y'see, I'm a martial artist. I had a hand in training everyone here. A former student of mine by the name of Gohan found Goku in the woods one day. He was only a lil' tyke at the time. Still had his tail back then. He looked like he'd been wanderin' around alone fer days. Gohan took him in, adopted him as his own. He called himself Goku's grandfather, due to their age difference. Boy, was he a feral child. Couldn't sit still to save his life, wouldn't sleep, tore up the whole damn house."

"His subliminal programming," Raditz interrupted. "Whenever a newborn is sent off-world, they travel in a pod. Said pod comes equipped with conditioning technology. The aim is to teach the young one as early as possible where they're from. What their mission is. How best to survive in the harshest of environments. If you ask me, the efficacy of such treatment on one too young to speak, let alone perform their job, is dubious at best."

"Makes sense, I s'pose. Anyways, Gohan didn't know what to do with 'im. Then, fate stepped in and solved all his problems. He was trying to get Goku outta the house for some fresh air one mornin'. They lived up in the mountains, see. Goku struck off on his own, and wouldn't ya know it? He took a mighty tumble down a ravine. Split his head open somethin' fierce. He was in a coma fer three weeks. Gohan didn't think he would make it. He did. And when he woke up, it was like he wasn't even the same kid. He became the sweetest, most gentle little boy you ever did see."

Raditz blew out a long breath.

"As I guessed. The fact he strayed so far from his pod when the old man discovered him must be why none of you ever suspected anything."

"Sounds about right," Yamcha agreed.

"I mean, we all thought it was weird that he had a tail. Figured it was some sort of birth defect. That said, weird isn't exactly an uncommon thing on this planet. Seeing as he didn't find it abnormal, and we all liked him so much, we kinda just didn't question it after a while," added Krillin.

"What did you do whenever there was a full moon?" Raditz wondered aloud.

It'd been so long since the team dealt with any of Goku's monthly outbursts. They practically forgot they were a thing.

"You can thank Kami for that," answered Roshi. "Must've known what Goku was since long ago. Put up a magical barrier in our atmosphere. Said it 'filtered out the moon's rays'? Somethin' like that."

"Someone on this planet is powerful enough to do such a thing?" Raditz asked. He turned more than a little pale at the thought.

"When They need to be," Roshi continued, "it's not a sort of strength particularly useful in battle. It's a spiritual strength."

"Yeah. Kami's Earth's Guardian. They're what most on the ground would consider a god. Watches over everyone. Only interferes in human affairs when necessary. You get the idea," Yamcha elaborated.

"Well. I wasn't wrong when I said my compatriots didn't do their research. This would be the same Kami who cut off your tail, then?"

"Didn't cut it off. Purified it. Another magic thing. Think of it more like a ritual than a surgery," Krillin said as he folded his arms and hunched forward. "Goku transformed a couple times when he was young. Hurt some people. Kami must've erected the barrier not long after. Before we knew it, he was able to look at the moon and nothing would happen. Once he met Kami face-to-face, he got his tail purified, and there was no need for the barrier anymore."

This was bordering on being too much. Goku was already wrestling with his realigned concepts of his birth, family, and true origins. Now, these awful memories were coming back to torment him. The ones he dismissed as buried and forgotten. He was sure he put the past behind him. That he needn't ever think about transforming into a fifty-foot-tall ape and endangering everything good in his life ever again. He already lost so much to his tragic circumstance of birth. The tragic circumstance which now appeared to have an explanation, at least. Still. So much of his youth was shrouded in chaos from the mere possibility of it happening. It was why they nipped the issue in the bud and made sure Gohan's tail was surgically removed shortly after birth. Chi-Chi agreed their son should never have to deal with such pain, such a state of living in fear. And here was his brother. Treating the banishment of the curse as some sort of wasted opportunity.

"There's something I'm still not clear on," Goku spoke up. He forced himself to remove his hand from his scalp. "Why are you here? After all this time? What do you want from me?"

There was a pause. Raditz looked intently focused, perhaps wondering how best to answer such a question.

"As I said, I wanted to see you. I'm also here because the ones who sent you were concerned why your mission is not yet complete after more than two of your decades. They planned to send someone much worse. I stepped in, asked if it could be me. I figured if anyone was going to get you on track, it should be your own flesh and blood."

"On track to what? What was my mission?"

Another pause. This one was decidedly less contemplative. It was obvious he was doing his best to sugarcoat something less than desirable.

"Your mission is at cross-purposes with the grander design. It's a means to an end. As I mentioned, there are other survivors besides you and me. We have a plan, and you are an integral part of it."

"You're not answering me. What. Was. My. Mission?" Goku seethed, becoming impatient. The others read his body language and started to feed off his tension.

A blip appeared on Raditz's one-eyed visor. He sighed.

"Your mission is to exterminate all indigenous life on this planet. Just like all Saiyan infants with higher than average battle potential sent off-world."

Everyone except Goku recoiled. He remained stiff as a board, his sights fixed on Raditz.

"The Infiltration Protocol?" Goku asked. His hands became fists in his lap.

"The Infiltration Protocol," Raditz confirmed, "which, I'll remind you, I'm against."

" _Why_?" Goku grumbled.

"I told you, I don't think it's necessarily right to rip a child from their home and family. Not when an adult is perfectly capable of doing the job."

"No, _why_ is this a job that needs doing!?" Goku screamed at him. He fell forward on his knees, his eyes turning glassy.

This was the difficult part. Raditz was wholly unprepared for bringing what was ostensibly a native Earthling around to his employer's line of thinking. But he needed to try his best.

"Ten cycles before Vegeta blew up, its military was absorbed by the Planet Trade Federation. They're a company spanning the entire galaxy. Their business model relies on wiping out all life on a habitable planet, then auctioning it off to the highest bidder. Be it species evading the destruction of their own worlds or empires looking to expand their reach. Sometimes a planet is bought by someone very rich, or a small group of someones looking to play god. I mean, what could be more opulent and luxurious than your own planet all to yourself?"

The group had heard enough. One by one, they all began to stand. They stepped away from Raditz to retake their places at Goku's side. He was still on all fours in the sand, grappling with this terrible deluge.

The forces amassing against Raditz did not go unnoticed.

"Is it wrong? Who's to say? Depends on your definition of the word. It's the only trade we know, the only one we have left. When the Federation came, they put the Saiyans' natural talents for destruction to good use. I won't deny the arrangement's been mutually beneficial."

Goku bared his teeth. He wasn't hearing any nuance to the cold, hard truth.

"I can tell you're angry. Trying to put myself in your shoes, I understand. I get it. If I grew up here with no memories, learned to care for these people, this world, I'm sure I'd feel the same. We are all victims of circumstance. You're focusing on the wrong details. Yes, we do a morally ambiguous thing to stay employed. To keep our employers happy. To stay alive. I promise you, there is a bigger picture here. And to further that, we need you, Kakarot."

Goku sluggishly got to his feet. He moved at a snail's pace. Not because he felt weak, nor because he was exercising caution. He was desperate to stay cool, to use every ounce of willpower he owned to keep from wringing Raditz's neck right there.

"I don't want your understanding. I don't want your promises. I don't care what you need me for. You think killing billions of people is," Goku stopped, pinched the bridge of his nose, tried to recall and fully comprehend the words, "morally ambiguous? Then we have nothing else to discuss. Especially if you still expect me to carry out this… _mission_."

Raditz stood and dusted himself off. He squared up to Goku.

"Kakarot. I know this is upsetting you. I know a great many things don't make sense right now. Believe me when I say there is no avoiding this, brother. There is no choice in the matter," he tried to say sternly, though as non-threatening as he could manage.

"Don't call me Kakarot. My name is Goku Son. I'm an Earthling. Always have been, always will be. And I am not your brother. No brother of mine would ask me to do this."

"I'm not asking," Raditz spoke, purposely leaving the precise meaning of the sentence open to interpretation. "I'm flexible. My employers aren't. We can set aside whoever you'd like. These friends of yours, it doesn't matter. We can make arrangements for the connections you've made here. No harm will come to them. This is a fight you cannot win."

"Shows how much you know about Goku," said Yamcha as he rotated his head and cracked his neck.

Raditz was getting mad. He tapped the red button in the center of his earpiece. It emitted a series of beeps, followed by the green eyepiece displaying something only he could decipher.

"I'm through playing games. Even accounting for energy spikes, none of your power levels come anywhere close to mine. Even yours, _Kakarot_. Is this the road you truly wish to go down?"

"If we have to," Goku said, standing his ground. "The way I see it, you've got two choices. Tell your bosses to screw off. Stay with us, make amends. Or leave. Leave and never come back."

That tore it. He supposed a healthy dose of tough love was going to be the only way to get through to him.

Raditz clicked the button one more time. A smirk crept across his face.

"I choose option three. Beat the sense into you. Will it be the five of us fighting? Or will the five in the house be joining us as well?"

Goku went from defiant to petrified at the drop of a hat. His eyes went wide as he processed what was said to him.

"What?" he stammered.

"You heard me. The five in the house. How long did you think you could keep them hidden from me? They must be important to you."

The battlefield was quiet for ten more seconds.

"Guys," Goku growled as he crouched, clenched his fists.

Yamcha fanned his hands in front of his face, then locked his arms forward. He made a come-hither gesture with one hand.

Krillin mimicked Goku's stance. Roshi spun his walking stick and tore off his salmon button-up, revealing a far more chiseled body than anyone his age should've had.

The device affixed to Raditz's face shrieked, its display cluttered with myriad new data on his opponents. The smirk never left him.

The word "NOW!" was barely out of Goku's mouth when everyone leaped into the fray.

Yamcha came down from above with an ax kick. Raditz gingerly sidestepped it. He ducked a mighty swing from Roshi's staff by bending back, not losing his balance for a moment. He allowed himself to drop to the ground, landing on the palm of one hand. He let all his weight rest on it while he lifted his legs and kicked like a horse, nailing both Yamcha and Krillin square in the face. They pitched backward, covered their wounds, blind to the next assault.

They didn't even see the movement. The next thing they knew, Raditz was behind them, driving his elbows into the center of each of their spines. They roared in pain, the blows strong enough to lift them off the sand. Raditz slammed his palms into their chests as they rose into the air and drove them back into the ground with an earth-shattering impact.

Roshi spun his stick twice and entwined his arm around it. He formed his free hand into a claw, then lunged. The old man sent a flurry of jabs Raditz's way mixed with flourishes of his weapon, to no avail. He dodged every attack with little effort.

Roshi made another attempt, this time not pulling away quick enough. Raditz grabbed the teacher's forearm in mid-punch, yanked him forward off his feet, pivoted, and used him as an improvised shield for the incoming blow from Goku. Goku pulled his hit at the last moment to avoid sucker-punching his master. Raditz threw his weight into a tackle with Roshi between them, the strike powerful enough to shatter Roshi's ribs and fire Goku several yards away.

Goku did a spinning sweep on the grass, using the momentum to carry himself to his feet. Roshi was on the beach, clutching his chest, gasping for air. Krillin and Yamcha were mustering the strength to get up. They massaged the contusions on their chests and spines for the few seconds they could.

"This is pathetic. You're only making fools of yourselves," Raditz taunted. The heroes ignored it.

Yamcha was again the first to jump in. He howled like a wolf and charged. He became a blur of swipes, surprising the Saiyan with their speed and fluidity. When Raditz caught a hit to each cheek, he grew annoyed.

"That's enough of that, Loudmouth," the invader said from the pit of his throat. He seized Yamcha by both wrists and twisted violently. The former bandit went to his knees, the pain white-hot and searing, the brute's grasp inescapable.

"Yamcha!" Goku shouted in protest.

It was too late. Raditz raised his hands then pumped them down, cracking Yamcha's upper body like a whip, breaking both his arms at the elbows. He screamed in agony and toppled to the floor as soon as Raditz released his grip.

"You bastard!" Krillin hollered. He sprinted at Raditz, deaf to Goku's cries to wait.

Raditz matched the bald man's dash, weaved out of the way of his single attempt at a punch. He palmed Krillin's face, plucked him off the ground by it, and continued running on a collision course with Goku.

Krillin flailed, unable to do anything. Goku was stunned, not knowing what to do either, sure whichever move he made, his brother would counter it in the most brutal fashion possible, likely forcing him to accidentally injure his friend. He decided the only best course of action was to tank himself against whatever was coming.

Raditz used the back of Krillin's head like a bludgeoning weapon and struck Goku across the jaw. He swiveled back and drove another blow into his solar plexus. All Goku could see were stars, his vision murky and untrustworthy.

Raditz threw Krillin into the side of Kame House. His body splintered several planks of wood as he ricocheted off it, landing in an unconscious heap in front of the porch steps.

Goku wasn't sure if he fell from dizziness and disorientation, or if Raditz landed on him. Either way, the results were the same. Goku fazed in and out of awareness as his brother sat on his chest. He hammered his torso and skull with rapid, gorilla-like pounds, each one like a progressively bigger truck slamming into him. Only when Goku was spitting teeth and blood in equal measure did Raditz stop. He remained sitting atop him for a minute or so and breathed heavily. He shut his eyes, opened and closed his fists, mentally putting the beast back in its cage.

When he finally seemed to return to himself, Raditz stared at the mess he'd turned his brother into. He looked around the beach, observing the fighters he'd left broken and bleeding in the sunrise. It was a sickening display; spilled blood and anguished bodies somehow looked more wrong in naked daylight.

"I didn't want things to go this way. You forced my hand, Kakarot."

Raditz got off his sibling, brushed himself, and turned his attention to the house. He locked his gaze on the upper level.

Without a moment's hesitation, Raditz made a motion like he was catching a ball out of the air. As soon as he did, the second story of Kame House exploded in a hail of wood and glass shrapnel. Several screams were heard from inside the dwelling.

The elder Saiyan focused his energy, caused his body to levitate off the ground. He rose to where the upstairs window used to be. He looked at the open roof, spotted a panicked Bulma on her knees staring up at him. He tapped the button on his earpiece again.

Apparently, the armoire and matching dresser beside her were not what they appeared.

Raditz made a slapping motion with one hand, causing Bulma to fly telekinetically into what remained of the far wall. She crumpled to the floor, instantly knocked out from the impact. He performed the motion again going the other direction, and the same happened to the furniture. As soon as they thudded into the opposite wall to Bulma, they mutated back into Puar and Oolong. The two collapsed in a pile in front of Master Roshi's bed. In the spot they formerly occupied was, he guessed, a frantic mother cradling her crying child.

Raditz coasted down to land in front of them.

"You must be who Kakarot was trying to protect. Let me guess," Raditz said as he looked Chi-Chi up and down, "he mated with you, yes? Will his depravity never cease?"

"Go to Hell," Chi-Chi retorted.

"Not yet," said Raditz. He threw a hand forward, blowing Chi-Chi backward against the staircase. She didn't have a chance. She tumbled down, unable to get out a single threat or plea. Gohan was left precisely where he was, cowering in fear.

"And you must be my nephew. Hello. I'm your uncle, Raditz."

"I already have an uncle," Gohan whimpered. He gathered up enough bravery to look at Raditz through his web of fingers. "And his name is Krillin!"

"Duly noted," his uncle acquiesced as he tapped the child on the head. The move caused his puffy hat to tumble to the ground shortly before he did. Out like a light.

Goku was coming to on the beach as Raditz touched onto the grass. He was holding Gohan in his hand by the nape like a cat. Goku tried desperately to tell Raditz not to harm him, though was unable to get any words out.

"I'm sorry, brother," Raditz said with solemnity in his voice as he approached. He actually sounded like he meant it. "I told you, I didn't want to have to do this. I'm still willing to play ball with you, to find an arrangement that works well for both of us. This planet must be razed. Everyone need not die. Exceptions can be made. Your family and friends can be spared. I'm sure we can reach a sort of…compromise."

Goku turned. He spat more blood. He groaned in pain.

Raditz looked at him for a long while. The guilt he felt was genuine. He dislodged the device from his ear and face.

"Pick yourself up. Do some soul-searching if you have to. Once you're ready to talk, use this to find me."

He tossed the wearable a foot away from his brother's reach. Goku was inching his way closer, stretching out a feeble hand towards his son.

"Don't worry. I would never kill my own nephew. Think of him as insurance. You have a role to play in this, Kakarot. You are one of us. And what remains of our species needs you. Make the right choice next time," he said, then turned away from him.

Raditz was about to take off when he saw Chi-Chi crawling out the front door on her belly. She held something strange in her hand.

" _Here_ ," Chi-Chi blurted out.

She threw the object at Raditz's feet. It was Gohan's puffy hat.

"What's this?" Raditz questioned.

"Take it. It's what you want, isn't it?" Chi-Chi spoke, frantic. She looked up at the Saiyan with pleading eyes, tears streaming down her face. "Please. Don't hurt him. Give him to me. Just take the Dragon Ball and _go_!"

Raditz took a beat. He looked back and forth from the hat to Chi-Chi, more puzzled than anything.

"What in the world is a Dragon Ball?" Raditz asked rhetorically.

Chi-Chi stared at the man, uncomprehending. Her breath exited her in harsh, ragged wisps.

Raditz launched into the air with Gohan in tow and took off towards the horizon.

* * *

When Bulma next awoke, the first thing she noticed was the sound of hysterical sobbing below her.

Her vision took a while to refocus. She found herself staring up at the gaping hole where the ceiling used to be. The sun beamed on her, its rays harsh and unforgiving. How long was she out? She wasn't looking forward to the burns she'd likely have this time tomorrow as a consequence.

 _Get a grip. Hardly the most important thing right now._

She sat up and touched the side of her head. A bolt of pain coursed through her body, intense enough to banish away any leftover delirium.

 _Yup, definite concussion._

She knew it was minor, due to her lucidity. It was time to gather her bearings, to figure out what was going on.

The sun was at the top of the sky. It'd been a few hours, at least. It was starting to come back to her.

She'd heard every word of the gang's chat with Raditz from the doorway. She nearly gave away her position several times as she gasped at each horrific newsflash. Then the fight broke out, and she followed Oolong and Puar upstairs to hide with Chi-Chi and Gohan, as Goku wanted. Then the roof disappeared. Everything was still a little fuzzy after that.

She got to her knees and crawled over to Oolong and Puar. They were still laying on their sides by the futon. A gentle shake was enough to rouse them. They'd gotten off pretty lucky, all things considered. No damage they'd be feeling the next day, far as she could tell.

"Where is everyone?" Puar squeaked as he flexed his paws.

"I think they're downstairs," Bulma replied.

"Cripes, is that Chi-Chi?" Oolong questioned. His ears twitched at the sound of the tortured cries. Bulma thought so. She prayed she was wrong.

The trio made their way into Kame House's living room. They walked carefully so as to avoid the broken glass and splintered wood strewn about in every direction. Once they made it to the first story, they saw the ruined warriors scattered around the room.

Krillin propped himself up on his elbows over the kitchen sink. He ran cold water over a series of ugly bruises across his scalp. Roshi was limping out of the bathroom, for once using his walking stick for its intended purpose. A sick wheeze followed each of his sharp inhalations. Goku was sprawled across the floor, staring blankly at the wood paneling. A consistent line of blood drooled from his lips like a leaking faucet. Only when he blinked a couple times did Bulma realize he wasn't dead.

"Yamcha!" Puar cried as he soared across the room.

Yamcha was leaning against the front doorway, both arms bent at unnatural, disturbing angles. He groaned and slammed his head into the wall repeatedly to distract himself from the pain.

"Oh no," Bulma uttered. She ran over to her partner and inspected his breaks without touching them. She knew the others could take care of themselves, no matter how bad a shape they were in. Oolong, unsure what do, how to be of help, could only follow.

"Babe! We're gonna fix this. You're gonna be okay, I promise."

"Don't… _don't_ ," Yamcha sucked a mouthful of air and held it for a moment. "Don't worry about me. Help them."

Though fraught, Bulma couldn't help smiling. Yamcha always showed the best of himself in dire straits. Whenever the world was in danger, every ounce of selflessness he possessed bubbled to the surface. Crazy as it was to reflect on it at such a moment, she relished those reminders why she still loved him.

"I'll be back," said Bulma. She kissed him on the cheek as gentle as she could. Puar fluttered to his shoulder to keep him company in the meantime.

"B-Bulma," Roshi hacked. He stumbled over the carpet, caught himself with his palms. His staff clattered to the floor. The noise echoed in the silent house. The blue-haired scientist ran over to him, the talking pig close behind.

"Roshi! How bad is it?" she asked, frantic.

"B-bad. Nevermind that. Upstairs. Under my bed. There's a Senzu Bean. I keep it there for emergencies."

Bulma's eyes lit up. She couldn't remember the last time she heard such good news. With a cry of joy, she whirled around and made her way back to the bedroom. She lifted up the futon, not caring one iota how dirty it may or may not have been.

An off-green morsel about the size of her thumbnail laid on the floor. She plucked it off the ground, gave it a cursory wipe on her shirt to get rid of any dust or grime, then returned to the living area.

"There's a mortar and pestle in the cabinet closest to the microwave. Grind it up. Mix a splash of water with it. Goku won't be able to chew," Roshi instructed, having made his way to the sofa. His breathing sounded much better, far less labored now that he was off his feet.

"On it!" Bulma shouted, following his directions to the letter.

She withdrew the heavy granite bowl that filled her palm and dropped the bean inside. She grabbed the cylindrical gray rock that served as the grinder and got to work. She diligently mashed up the tiny godsend for thirty seconds, then trotted over to the sink.

"I'll have you all fixed up in a jiffy," she said to Krillin, motioning for him to move over an inch so she could steal a few drops of water from the running spigot.

"Not us. Goku. Give it to Goku," Krillin muttered.

"Excuse me? You're telling me you don't want any of this?" Bulma scoffed.

"I'll be fine. We both know I've been through worse," Krillin went on.

"You're nuts. C'mon, everybody gets a sip."

"He's right, Bulma," Roshi raised his voice. "There's not enough there for all of us. We were distractions, anyways. We're down for the count. It's up to 'im, now."

She couldn't believe what she was hearing. Usually, anyone in the group would jump at the chance to eat a Senzu, even when they didn't need it bad.

The insinuations gradually started to make sense. Krillin, Yamcha, and Roshi were all strong, no doubt. Some of the greatest fighters in the world. Even on their best days, none of them could hold a candle to Goku. The Turtle Hermit prodigy. The mysterious little boy who grew into a man, strength the likes of which no one had ever seen. Some of the mystery was gone now. The source of his power made a bit more sense, thanks to Raditz's explanation. Once she realized all this, she knew why they were all giving up their shares of the bean for their friend.

The fight wasn't over.

 _Where's Gohan?_

She was smart. She pieced the rest of the encounter together without having to ruminate on it. The reason behind Chi-Chi's wails suddenly became clear.

Bulma faced Yamcha, a pleading look in her eyes.

"Baby, please. You take a sip at least. Look at your arms."

"No…no can do," he winced. "I've been…through worse, too. Remember?" he chuckled, his voice laden with pain. He expended all his energy to maintain his smile, the soft look in his eyes. Bulma couldn't argue with him anymore.

"All right. Goku, you're up," she said as she spun towards him. She knelt, got on the floor, and put a hand behind his noggin, cradling it. She was extra careful not to touch his scar.

She tugged the hair above his neck just enough to tilt his head without exacerbating his wounds. She poured the pasty liquid into his mouth. Down his gullet it went. Then the miracle happened.

Bulma never tired of seeing the Senzu Beans work their magic. In all the times she tried dissecting and studying them, she was never able to figure out how they functioned, what their chemical properties were. It wouldn't be inaccurate to say they were alien. They certainly weren't of this world. Or maybe that's precisely what made them of this world. Those were the sorts of mental gymnastics she needed to master once she made peace with wish-granting dragons, ghost-summoning fortune tellers and the like. The true nature of things she'd been forced to accept as a young girl. In the grand scheme of it all, she supposed a plant that could instantly heal any lesion wasn't so out-there.

Goku cried out. This part was always unpleasant. Due to missing several teeth, new ones needed to grow from his ravaged sockets. Bulma shrunk away from the sight, having overestimated her constitution.

Watching gashes close or bones heal was one thing. Calcified protrusions growing from damaged tissue was entirely another.

In minutes, it was done. Goku blinked rapidly, lifted and curled his hands. He puffed out his chest, delighted to find his ribs and collarbone intact. He clacked his teeth, spat a mouthful of coagulated blood, and sighed.

"Thanks, Bulma," he exhaled. She grinned and scratched his neck playfully.

"You back up to speed, m'boy?" Roshi questioned as he leaned forward, immediately regretted doing so, then rocked back.

"Yeah, I'm good. Thanks, guys. You didn't have to take yourselves out of the equation for me," Goku spoke, a little ashamed, though not ungrateful.

"Don't worry about us. You do what you gotta do, buddy," Krillin said as he lightly patted his dome dry with a washcloth.

"Get 'im, Goku," Yamcha hissed, giving a shaky thumbs-up. Even he wasn't sure how he managed it.

The moans outside seemed to have finally died down. Goku stood and angled his gaze out the door.

"I guess we better go see her," he said.

He tightened the straps on his belt and began to walk towards the beach. Bulma shadowed him, apprehension on her face and in her step.

Chi-Chi was sitting at the edge of the sand. The tide washed up to her feet and rear-end every few seconds. The shock of cold wetness didn't phase her. She hugged her knees to her breasts, her chin between them, staring out over the horizon. The tears running down her face were dried, crystallized into a powdery consistency. Clutched in her hands was Gohan's hat. The Dragon Ball affixed to it reflected the rays of the burning ball in the sky. The four stars danced inside as if mocking her.

Goku and Bulma took a seat on either side. Bulma placed an arm around her shoulder and started to cry.

"I'm so sorry, Chi'ch. This is my fault. If I didn't pressure you, didn't force you to let go of Gohan, then—"

"—Then a monster wouldn't have dropped out of thin air to abduct my son?" Chi-Chi said with an eerie calm. Bulma was stunned.

"I mean…well…"

"Stop it. It's not your fault, Bulma. How could it be? What did that man say we all are? 'Victims of circumstance'?"

She looked over at Goku. His mouth was agape.

"Yeah, I was at the window. Wanted to know what was going on," Chi-Chi shrugged. "For the record, it's not your fault either, Honey."

Chi-Chi got to her feet, shivered as icy seawater drizzled across her legs. Goku and Bulma followed suit.

"He didn't even want the Dragon Ball. Didn't even know what it was," she said as she twisted and ripped the orb from its hot glue bindings. She discarded the rest of the hat, then turned to Goku. She put a hand on his head, unafraid to touch his scar. He flinched once, then relaxed.

"Goku. You are the strongest man I've ever known. And yes. You _are_ still a man. You're my husband. You're the protector of this planet. Don't ever forget it," she whispered, their eyes locked together.

Her words emboldened him, made him feel like they were true. He took her free hand.

"Bring our son home," Chi-Chi finished.

"I will," Goku promised.

He stayed there with her a little longer, drinking in his wife's ferocity, her belief in him. It was encouragement the likes of which she'd never shown him before.

Goku pulled something from his pocket and tossed it to Bulma. She nearly dropped it into the ocean, unprepared as she was.

"What's this?"

"Raditz gave it to me. Said when I was ready I should use it to find him. Lucky for us, I was right. He can't sense energy. I'm guessing this thing does. Study it, find out whatever you can about it. I won't be needing it. And the fact he doesn't have it anymore puts him at a disadvantage."

Bulma examined the earpiece and attached visor. She turned her attention to her friend and nodded in affirmation.

"NIMBUS!" Goku yelled.

He took off running alongside Kame House and performed a mighty leap at the water. The yellow cloud arrived in the nick of time to break his fall. He bent his knees, pushed his arms behind him, and took off into the air at dizzying speeds.

* * *

Goku located Raditz immediately. Not only was the brute incapable of sensing energy signatures, he was also unable to hide his own. The fact he was so powerful made him a cinch to track. He'd flown a couple hundred miles northeast of Kame House, then came to a stop.

Goku could've gone to meet him at once, challenged him for a rematch, taken back his son with force. However, he knew if he tried, he'd get himself killed, no question about it. He needed to take a minute, think things through, utilize the cognitive skills Gohan and Chi-Chi spent the last few years building in him. Playing this smart was the only way to win.

After a while, he came to a conclusion. He needed to pay someone a visit prior to the impending conflict. He didn't like it. But there was no other choice. Especially with his comrades laid up and unable to lend any assistance.

 _You know the answer's gonna be no._

"I have to try. They're the only hope I've got," Goku mouthed to himself.

His only other options for backup were Tien and Chiaotzu. Most often, they would do in a pinch. Alas, they were both halfway around the world. Getting to them would take time he wasn't certain he could spare. He didn't want to put Raditz's patience to the test, not when he was holding his son captive. Besides, Goku knew the one he was on his way to see was stronger. Much stronger. In fact, it was quite probable they were equals in strength these days.

Goku had been keeping tabs on them, of course. Hardly a minute went by when he couldn't sense their power growing. If they weren't in some far off corner of nowhere practicing immense feats of energy control, they were meditating. Training their mind, sharpening their reflexes. They were on a mission. And Goku of all people knew how powerful a motivator the thought of his own death was.

Truth be told, the idea someone was pushing themselves that hard to defeat him was thrilling to no end.

Goku readjusted the Nimbus' course. There was a barren, rocky valley a few dozen miles west of where Raditz was. It didn't take him long to get there. He could pilot the cloud quite fast when he didn't have to worry about the safety of his comparatively fragile family.

Once it reached the end of the detour, the vehicle coasted to a stop. Goku hopped off and looked around, getting his lay of the land.

The basin was littered with jagged peaks, cliffs jutting out of the ground like spires threatening to pierce the heavens. The stone was a dull rust color that accentuated the shadows pooling in every nook and cranny.

He continued to walk towards the edge of the rock wall he'd landed upon. Once he was twenty feet from the drop, he halted in his approach.

There was a body standing where the gravelly path terminated, overlooking most of the quarry. They remained motionless on their perch in spite of their enemy's arrival. Goku decided for once he would wait to speak until spoken to.

 _I'll bet they outright attack. Wouldn't be out of character._

"Why are you here?" the figure questioned in a deep, booming voice. The tenor sounded masculine, though registered at a pitch and octave human vocal cords couldn't quite reproduce. The being wore a pair of baggy violet pants, a matching cummerbund, and a set of loafers somewhere on the color spectrum between purple and brown. They were bare-chested, brawny, taller even than Raditz. These were the only somewhat conventional qualities the person possessed.

"You felt it too, didn't you?" Goku asked, his expression steely.

"The power? Yes. I also felt it take you and your cohorts down like you were nothing," they replied. There was a distinct hint of mirth in the way they said it.

"Yeah. Kinda why I'm here," Goku confirmed.

He dared to take a step closer. This prompted them to turn and face him.

Their skin was an emerald-green with pink lines of sinew outlining the muscles protruding from the flesh at the bulging points, the salmon-colored striations visible to the naked eye. The exposed tissue was present on their forearms, biceps, shoulders, and abdomen. A dense, protruding brow ridge sat above their ocular cavities. There was a set of six-inch-long antennae which started as veins in their temples before jutting out from the forehead. The antennae swayed in the breeze, twitching and reacting to imperceptible changes in the environment around them. They were identical in length to the set of pointed ears which flanked the smooth head attached to them. They too did not remain stationary, in fact in a state constant motion, picking up and analyzing every minute sound for miles.

"You look good. Been working out?" Goku complimented.

The green one sneered.

"Can't exactly let you get a lead on me, can I?" they replied.

"There's more to life than training," Goku said, completely by accident. Chi-Chi's words coming out of his mouth, wholly unsolicited. He felt like he was being puppeteered by her.

"Says the man who's done nothing _but_ his whole life," they snapped back.

"Fair enough."

The two stared at each other for a long while, each waiting for the other to say or do something first. This was good. So far, it was officially the most civil discussion the two ever shared.

"I'll ask again. What do you want?" they repeated, growing irritable.

"I need your help, Piccolo," Goku spoke, dispensing with the good-natured ribbing, deciding his sincerity needed to show through. This elicited a bout of sardonic laughter from the green one.

"I figured as much. Poor, poor monkey-boy can't defeat the big bad, so he comes groveling to the spawn of his adversary?" Piccolo mocked.

They folded their arms and turned away, in their mind ending the dialogue. Goku forced himself to endure the insults. If he needed to beg, by Kami he would do it.

"You and I fought together once. About a year ago, remember? When the world needed us, we put our differences aside to fight the good fight. You helped save my son's life. I haven't forgotten that. I need to ask you to do it again. For his sake as much as my own. I also like to think we made a pretty good team."

Piccolo twitched, then rounded on him.

"You have a _very_ selective memory, Goku. Firstly, we did not 'set aside our differences'. We did not 'fight the good fight'. You and I bore a common enemy, so we used each other. And it matters not to me your brat didn't happen to die that day."

Goku's jaw hung slack. He wanted to argue, to say more. The words were escaping him.

Bulma's Capsule Copter evidently possessed a knack for sneaking up on people. Goku and Piccolo noticed the approach of the denizens inside, though didn't actually hear the vehicle until it was cresting over the nearest ridge. It did a far more conservative bank than last time, meaning even if it were possible in his condition, Yamcha wasn't behind the wheel.

The craft made a smooth landing fifty feet away from Goku, then powered down. The passenger's side door opened as the rotor slowed to a crawl. His wife stepped out, though did not approach. He stared at her with frustration, wondering why she tailed him. He looked to Bulma, who was in the driver's seat. She made what appeared to be an "I'm sorry" hand gesture.

Piccolo watched the proceedings yet didn't make any aggressive movements.

"Don't get your panties in a bunch. I won't harm them. Seems that _friend_ of yours will take care of them for me."

 _Every time someone's tried to reassure me today, its just sounded like a threat._

A surge of anger rose in Goku. He took a breath, stifled the flare-up, and decided to try once more. He knew it would be in vain.

"Piccolo, please. I'm begging you. This guy is too strong for me to handle on my own. If I don't stop him, my kid's gonna die. He plans to destroy every living thing on this planet. I can't allow that to happen."

Piccolo chuckled. "You're only hurting your cause. Sounds like this guy is in the business of doing me favors. Why would I want to deter him from getting my revenge for me?"

Piccolo started walking. They didn't stop until they were inches from Goku, staring him directly in the face, drilling holes into him with their stare.

"I can watch him choke the life from the man who killed my forebearer, then stand by as this heap burns. Once it's all said and done, I will reign over what's left."

Goku didn't back down, didn't budge. He tensed his body, sure Piccolo would lash out and take a swing at any moment.

"Funny. _Lord_ Piccolo said something similar, once. They were also cool with ruling an empire of ashes. I assumed their child would have a little more ambition."

This got to Piccolo. Their face twisted into a furious scowl. Goku braced himself, ready for the incoming hit.

It never happened. His foe looked to have gotten better at managing their temper.

"Get out of here. Leave. Go meet your death. Before I change my mind about speeding it along."

Piccolo turned away from him, arms crossed. Conversation over.

Goku stared at the ground, crestfallen. He made his way over to the Capsule Copter.

The meeting went pretty much how he expected it to. Nonetheless, he hoped he would be wrong. His rival was his best shot at standing a chance against Raditz. Now he needed to regroup, figure out what to do, formulate a new plan of attack.

Goku confronted Chi-Chi. Her eyes were red and swollen, indicating she'd done a great deal more crying since they parted last.

"Why did you follow me? Do you realize how dangerous this is, you being here?"

"I had a feeling this was where you were going. Guessing it didn't go well?" she asked, steamrolling his query. He heaved out a tired, disappointed lungful of air.

"No. Wasn't betting on it. Really could've used 'em, though."

Chi-Chi nodded. Without saying another word, she strode past Goku. There was a delay, wherein his mind had to catch up with what he was seeing.

"Chi-Chi, wait!" he shouted. He stuck out a hand to pull her back, but she was already out of his reach.

She stopped a mere ten feet from Piccolo. She watched them for a few seconds, then cleared her throat loudly. Piccolo jerked away from the noise. Nevertheless, they didn't acknowledge her presence.

"Mr. Piccolo? _Sir_?" Chi-Chi tried again.

Piccolo cringed at being addressed this way, a growl building in the pit of their throat. It succeeded in getting their attention.

"Chi-Chi, enough! You're only gonna piss 'em off," Goku yelled through cupped hands. She ignored him. Instead, she closed the gap between her and Piccolo and tugged at a tightened bicep. This forced them to look at her. It was a bold move.

Piccolo remained silent, now more out of disbelief than fury or indifference. Goku's reaction was identical.

"Please. Listen to me," Chi-Chi implored.

Her hand stayed on Piccolo's arm. It was cold to the touch, the texture almost leathery. It hardened beneath her grasp. She declined to move it.

"You humans are insufferable. _Fine_. What do you want? Let me guess. Are you going to cry and beg me to save your little cretin's life? I politely decline," Piccolo bellowed.

Chi-Chi's eyes accrued moisture, but she didn't let her tears overflow.

"Can I ask you a question?" Chi-Chi persisted. Piccolo jeered.

"You're going to no matter what. Out with it."

Chi-Chi knew to be extremely careful how she worded the next part. Otherwise, she could very well be murdered on the spot. She took a long breath and made a silent prayer to Kami.

"Piccolo. What happened after my husband killed your," she paused, doing the mental math, accounting for their kind's lack of gender, "progenitor? What did you feel?"

Piccolo felt several things simultaneously. First, there was blinding, unadulterated rage at the woman's audacity. Second was a begrudging admiration of her bravery, her fearlessness. Third was disgust at her awkward usage of the term "progenitor". Those emotions were trailed by the one they supposed was emblematic of the truest answer to her question.

"I felt…alone. Empty. Your husband took from me my ancestry. Any sense of purpose I might've had. When my forebearer birthed the egg from their mouth carrying me, they imbued it with all their thoughts, their feelings, their memories. I've known nothing my whole life except a hatred of Goku. If Lord Piccolo survived, I might've been born under different conditions. Bred for something more."

Piccolo was oddly calm in Chi-Chi's presence. They let their arms unfold. Chi-Chi slid her grip down their wrist and held their hand. It had long white nails, and save for the jade skin tone, looked remarkably human.

"We're all victims of circumstance," Chi-Chi repeated. She hated Raditz's words were becoming something of a mantra for her.

"Indeed. In another life, perhaps Goku and I could've been allies. Lord Piccolo desired to make this world better by presiding over it. Your mate killed them for that. He didn't simply take my heritage from me. He took away my place in this world. Replaced it with something different. Something other."

Piccolo didn't know where these admissions were originating from. They were feelings they never articulated, never gave a chance to coalesce into coherent ideas. Somehow, this stern woman with nothing to lose was disarming them.

"I cannot express how sorry I am, Piccolo. I wasn't there. I was still a little girl. I was barely a fighter. I didn't know what was going on, couldn't see both sides of the conflict. In my experience, there're always two people with a different side to the same story, the truth existing somewhere in the middle. Goku did what he felt he needed to. Because of that, you were robbed of doing anything besides living in Lord Piccolo's shadow."

Piccolo was speechless. They didn't consciously decide to squeeze Chi-Chi's hand in return. It happened, all the same.

"It's not too late. You were born to be the heir to Lord Piccolo. You don't have to be. You can still forge your own path. Start by saving my son. He's innocent in all this."

Piccolo angled their head up. They squinted their eyes.

"What will that accomplish? I owe you nothing. I care not for your child."

"I know. Hell, he might not even die. That monster might settle for killing Goku instead. In which case, congratulations. Your mission's accomplished. Hooray for you. But then my son will grow up fatherless. Like you did. Another victim of circumstance."

Piccolo was taken aback. They didn't know what to say. Chi-Chi allowed a solitary tear to breach her defenses.

"Whatever you might be, I know you're not some heartless, unfeeling creature. Despite what others might think. Ask yourself: if you could prevent someone from experiencing the same pain you did, from growing up alone with an insurmountable legacy to uphold…wouldn't you want to try?"

Chi-Chi gave a tight-lipped smile and squeezed Piccolo's hand. They stood there for a while in silence together. Then, Chi-Chi let go and walked away. She returned to the Capsule Copter. Only when she was in front of Goku again did she let the rest of her tears spill forth.

"Well, I did my best," she croaked.

Goku was as flabbergasted as Piccolo, in just as much awe of her. He threw his arms around her and held her close, doing all he could to console her.

"It's gonna be okay, Chi'ch. Everything's gonna be okay. I'm gonna bring him home, I swear it."

"I know," she sobbed into his chest, clawing the material of his orange coat.

"Wait!" came a roar from the other direction.

The couple turned their heads to see Piccolo stepping over to them. Goku knotted his brow, unsure what this could mean. Chi-Chi held her breath, daring herself to hope.

Piccolo was turning over a great many things in their mind, then. What they were about to say wasn't easy for them.

"I. Will help you," said Piccolo. Not to Goku.

Chi-Chi grinned wide and cried harder all at once.

"Thank you," she hiccupped. Piccolo waved it off, mortified at having to respond to a pleasantry. They turned their focus to Goku.

"You and I will have an alliance. Our _last_ alliance. This changes nothing between us, understood? Once the intruder is dead, we are enemies once more."

"I can deal with that," Goku agreed.

 **To Be Continued…**


	4. Season 1, Episode 3 - Trump Card

**Last Time on…**

 **Dragon Ball: Reborn**

 _Goku and friends' long-overdue reunion was interrupted by the coming of a mysterious visitor from space. Upon arriving on Master Roshi's island, the wild-haired stranger revealed himself to be none other than Goku's older brother, Raditz. He went on to explain he and Goku were from another world—Saiyans from the long-dead Planet Vegeta. Their inhuman physiology was the reason Goku and Gohan were born with tails and could transform into monstrous apes when in sight of a full moon._

 _But Raditz was not on Earth for altruistic reasons. He was forced to deliver a harsh truth: Goku was sent there as an infant to destroy all life so the planet could be sold to the highest bidder. Due to his childhood head injury, Goku remembered none of this and refused to carry out his mission. A battle ensued, though Raditz was far more powerful than the combined might of Goku, Krillin, Yamcha, and Roshi. With Earth's defenders down for the count, Raditz took the only bargaining chip he could find. He kidnapped Gohan and sped away, encouraging Goku to reconsider his role in the future of their species._

 _After being rejuvenated with Roshi's emergency Senzu Bean, Goku took to the skies to find his one and only hope for saving Gohan. Against his better judgment, he met with his mortal enemy, the progeny of Lord Piccolo, who mocked and denied Goku's pleas for help. It wasn't until Chi-Chi made a last desperate appeal to Piccolo's own lack of parentage that they, at last, agreed to an alliance…_

 **Season 1, Episode 3 —**

 **"Trump Card"**

Raditz careened through the air on his way to his ship. He soared at a steady pace, not seeing much point in getting there as quick as possible.

He wasn't lying when he said Earth was a beautiful planet. Taking in the sights and sounds of such a lush world was soothing. It was a nice change of pace from the barren, war-torn vistas he'd grown accustomed to.

His nephew was tucked under one arm, out like a light. With any luck, he'd stay that way for a while. The subject of procuring food was still on the agenda, as was making his reconnaissance call home. He also needed to touch base with his _other_ important contact. Having a terrified child screaming throughout his errands would be vexing, to say the least. It would also raise more questions than he felt like answering at the moment. He preferred not to knock the poor thing out again. Even though the kid was half-Saiyan, there was only so much head trauma he could take.

 _To be fair, it's not as if you'll erase any_ vital _programming…_

A large crater faded into view. It was several hundred feet in diameter, smack dab in the middle of what appeared to be farmlands. That was unfortunate. One less spot he could scavenge for nourishment.

His employers had a vested interest in not seeing him starve, so the pod he arrived in was well-stocked with a nutrient-rich protein supplement. It was about as appetizing as it sounded. As soon as he landed on a new planet amidst his travels, gathering something he could actually sink his teeth into was usually priority one. Saiyans by nature possessed immense appetites. The gruel his bosses provided did not satisfy on any appreciable level.

He halted his forward momentum and plummeted from the sky like a stone. He used none of his energy to slow his descent, instead focusing it into cushioning his landing. His boots thudded into the ground, sending a spiderweb of fissures in every direction. The sound was like that of an avalanche.

Once the sediment beneath him ceased reverberating, he trotted to the edge of the crater. Amazingly, the little one didn't awaken. Raditz stepped over the lip of the basin and slid down its side on his heels. Once he reached the bottom, he came face-to-face with his ship.

The space pods used by the Planet Trade Federation (colloquially referred to as "Attack Balls") were marvels of modern science. They came in three sizes to best fit whoever happened to be piloting them. No matter the model in question, they all sported the same design aesthetic. Completely spherical, silver in color, a single hatch on the front, and a large magenta viewing window in its center. Elegant in its simplicity. The Saiyans appropriated the technology from the Tuffles, a race whom they originally shared Planet Vegeta with. Generations after the civil war that wiped out the Tuffles, the Federation arrived and married the Attack Balls with their own tech. This augmentation gave the ships the power they needed to cross interstellar distances in record time. Before, the Federation needed to play the long game, planning their conquests decades in advance. Those selected for the Infiltration Protocol were relics of that bygone era.

As he mentioned to Kakarot, the Saiyans' relationship with the Federation was mutually beneficial. At least in some respects.

Raditz went to tap a button on his Scouter before remembering he was no longer wearing it. He completely forgot he left it for Kakarot. He rolled his eyes at having made such an impulsive, foolish decision. Not that he felt he needed to calculate power levels particularly bad at this juncture. Nevertheless, the handy little device provided a much easier method of interfacing with his ship, among other functions. Doing minor, trivial tasks would be marginally more annoying without it.

Raditz placed a gloved palm on the ship's port glass. A second later, a glowing outline appeared, tracing around his fingers. Some digitized text emerged, prompting him to remove his hand. Soon as he did, a loud _click_ emitted from the hatch, followed by twin bursts of steam. The clouds of vented atmosphere hissed until they dissipated. The hatch lowered open towards him. He sidestepped out of the way so it could unfurl upon the ground. Once it did, a set of small steps extended, and he climbed them into the craft.

By most spacecraft standards, Attack Balls were small, even at their largest size. The interior of Raditz's reflected this. It wasn't the most comfortable thing in the universe, but it more than got the job done. The whole of the inside was taken up by a single brown seat recessed into the white padded foam. Attack Balls always came in hot and fast. Their durability was through the roof, hence why they created sprawling craters wherever they landed. This was why the padding was essential. If not for it, any passenger would liquefy as they made contact with a terrestrial body.

The seat bore two armrests with simple touch controls on either side. This was how the majority of the craft's functions operated, sans Scouter. The antigravity drive located beneath the seat was what allowed it to leave a planet's surface with no external means of propulsion. Whenever the ship needed to take off, the antigravity drive would adjust its harmonic frequency to match that of the planet where it was stationed. This frequency would achieve resonation with the core. Once resonance was attained, it would shift into asynchronous harmony. This caused the Attack Ball to fire from the surface like a bullet, having repelled itself from the planet like opposing poles on a magnet.

Raditz sat down in his command chair. Having little room to do anything else with him, he placed the unconscious child facing forward between his legs and used his thighs to pin him there. He tapped a beat on the control panel under his left hand and watched the stairs recede and the hatch raise back to its closed position. Another hiss signaled the pod pressurizing.

 _Much better._

Saiyans were notoriously adaptable, though their ideal conditions were harsher than what Earth offered. The Attack Ball quickly filled with a denser atmosphere and an increased gravitational pull, also governed by the drive below him. Seeing as he was a tad more content, he was ready to get to work.

He performed another series of gestures with his left hand on the touch panel. As he did, the twin laser arrays on either side of the chair's headrest activated. They moved rapidly as they drew a three-dimensional construct of blue light in front of Raditz's face. He lifted his fingers and manipulated the structure with a series of swipes, pokes, and claps.

After a while, the amorphous blob of data coalesced into the shape of a head. It jittered, emitting bursts of static every few seconds. Were he closer to base, the picture would've come in much clearer. Once the communication channel was open, Raditz folded his burly arms over the top of his nephew's head, shielding him from view.

The holographic form was reptilian. Like the midway point between a frog and a crocodile, sporting a small tuft of hair atop its head. It cooed in a raspy voice.

"Soldier #734, we are receiving you. Status report?"

Raditz cleared his throat.

"I have arrived on Planet—"

"—Wait, wait, wait," the reptile interrupted.

It took the Saiyan an instant to realize they weren't speaking the same language. He cursed himself again for giving up his Scouter. He needed to think of an explanation, fast.

The reptile affixed a Scouter to its own face.

"There we are. Soldier #734, what happened to your Scouter?"

"I was…I was flying over the ocean nearest to my crash site. I. I detected a power level I thought might have been noteworthy and went to investigate. I was mistaken, merely a thermal energy spike. Unfortunately, I dropped my Scouter in the water on my way back," said Raditz, saving face.

"That is indeed unfortunate. You were able to auto-translate the native tongue prior to this accident?" the lizard-person asked. Raditz nodded.

"Yes. I settled amidst some farmlands. I encountered a local who proceeded to fuss at me before attacking with a primitive firearm. This was a poor decision on his part, for obvious reasons. The obscenities he screamed in my direction were enough for my Scouter to auto-translate, hence our discrepancy a moment ago."

The scaly 3D model mulled this over. It seemed satisfied.

"I see. Status report?"

"I've successfully landed on Planet Earth. So far, no signs of Soldier #728, nor his Attack Ball. As you've already gathered, this world remains unconquered. I intend to collect more intel on what could've thwarted the destruction of all surface life. Once the reasons for mission failure become clear, along with the whereabouts and/or fate of Soldier 728, I will recommence the mission directive," Raditz dictated, lying through his teeth.

"Understood, 734. Do you require assistance neutralizing the native population?"

"No. The creatures here are weak, fragile. Whatever caused 728 not to complete his mission, it wasn't opposition from the indigenous people," Raditz answered. This was, for the most part, true.

"Very well. We expect an update from you within forty-eight Earth hours. And we anticipate the planet's full razing in one of their weeks.

"Copy that," Raditz agreed.

"Over and out," the reptile replied. Digital snow overtook the hologram and disintegrated it into nothingness.

Raditz breathed a sigh of relief. He removed his arms from his nephew's face and smacked himself in the temple for being stupid enough to part with the single most useful device at his disposal. Luckily, he didn't need it for what came next.

Raditz tapped another pattern, this time into the touch panel on his right side. A new glob of laser-charged particles glowed into existence. He acted out an extra series of pantomimes, this set taking much longer to complete, due to the farther distance he was reaching out. Once finished, a different form took shape in the iridescent mass. This one was less clear, less defined. Only a scant few features could be deciphered in the graphical noise and artifacts. The figure possessed the thick eyebrows, raven hair, and dark-brown eyes typical of Saiyan males. He had an angular face with a pointed chin and sharp nose, as well as a prominent widow's peak. He also wore a Scouter fastened to his face, meaning they wouldn't run into any translation snafus.

"My liege," Raditz spoke as he closed his eyes, placed a hand over his heart, and bowed his head.

"Your Scouter's off, yes?" the face asked him. Though greatly distorted, the voice was throaty and deep.

"Don't have it. No need to worry about anyone else listening in," said Raditz. This was an upside to the furnishings of Attack Balls being so sparse. The holographic projection system was the only built-in means of communicating with anyone else in the Federation. Due to it needing to be activated by hand, it afforded its pilots a certain amount of privacy, so long as a Scouter wasn't on or nearby. Were his Scouter with him and functional, his superiors could eavesdrop if they so wished. His contact on the other hand only ever used Scouters he himself tampered with beforehand so as to make his more clandestine operations untraceable.

"What's going on over there?" the hologram persisted.

"Would you prefer the good or the bad news first?" Raditz asked.

"You know me better than that. Always start with the bad," replied the voice.

Raditz let his shoulders go slack.

"I found Kakarot. He's one of the 'lucky' four percent."

The face cringed.

"What's the extent of the damage?"

"Total memory loss. Every scrap of his conditioning erased. Happened not long after he got here. Assimilated with the population, took a wife and son. Full native."

"Damn it all."

"It gets worse," Raditz continued, "he lost his tail."

The silence that followed was punctuated by the figure leaving the hologram. Raditz heard what he thought was a shout in the distance, followed by an explosion. The figure from the hologram returned shortly thereafter.

"You mentioned there was good news?" the projection asked, noticeably more flustered than before.

"Kakarot has made many friends here. He has a family. While that may sound like a detriment, I believe it's a weakness we can exploit. Saiyan programming or not, no one has the stomach to watch everyone they care for die in front of them. Not when they can stop it. No matter the cost. I'm sure with a little more persuasion, I can convince Kakarot the smart move is to join us. In return, I will agree to spare his loved ones."

"Hardly a consolation. So much could go wrong. What do you plan to do if he says no?"

Raditz exhaled.

"If he refuses? I take away his ability to choose."

The hologram stared at him.

"I need you committed to this cause, Raditz. I know he's your brother, and you'd rather not get your hands dirty if you can help it. Showing his people mercy might be a viable negotiation tactic. It also might show a lack of conviction. I need to know if push comes to shove, your loyalty will be to me and the mission."

"The mission? Of course, sire. It'll hardly be the first planet I've wiped out."

"Not the Federation's mission, you dolt. _Our_ mission."

Raditz blinked in rapid succession. Once comprehension took over him, he gulped and nodded.

"Yes, sire. You needn't worry about my conviction. Even if I have to strangle every friend he has with my bare hands, he will leave this planet with me."

"Make sure he does," the hologram affirmed.

"There's one more thing," Raditz appended. He lifted his arms and pointed at his nephew's head.

The hologram angled its gaze downward for the first time.

"What's that?"

"My brother's son."

There was a pause, during which everyone remained still.

"What're you telling me? You abducted his child? If it needed to be done, so be it. You don't need my approval for every action you take there."

"That's not it, my liege. He is Kakarot's son. By _blood_."

The hologram's eyes went wide.

"I assumed you meant he adopted a family. Do you mean to say Earthling and Saiyan biology is compatible?"

"Perhaps not all Earthlings. But humans? Definitely."

"Are you quite positive? I don't see a tail anywhere."

"My guess is Kakarot and his mate removed the boy's tail at birth to help him blend in. Or, he simply may not have been born with one. Could be a quirk of the crossed genetics. In any case, he has Saiyan blood running through his veins. He stood up to me when I first took him, however briefly. He has the ferocity, the tenacity. It just needs to be cultivated. Brought out."

The projection's eyes darted back and forth, processing a great many things.

"This _is_ good news, my friend. With long-term ramifications. This could be a way to propagate a new Saiyan race. Mixed blood is better than none at all."

"My thoughts exactly. Which is why, at the very least, we may need to set aside more than Kakarot's loved ones. The Federation expects all life wiped out within an Earth week, roughly equating to three of ours. If we can commandeer a ship before then—one large enough to suit our needs…we could take a few hundred. Settle the refugees on a different planet. Rebuild the empire in secret."

"I'll see what I can do. The Federation still has ties to a few bands of pirates. I'll make contact. Either way, they're on the fringes of the outer rim. There's no way any of them will reach you fast enough. I can call in a few favors, see if the Federation will give you more time."

"That would be ideal."

The projection watched the unconscious body of Kakarot's boy stir.

"You know what else this means, don't you?" the hologram questioned. Raditz cocked his head, uncertain.

"I'm not sure, sire."

"This could mean one less survivor we need to track down. We can focus all our efforts on finding Tarble. We might not need to waste manpower looking for low-class trash like Paragus and his brat."

"Are you sure the ritual will work with a half-Saiyan?"

"About as sure as I am it will work with one missing a tail. Which is to say not sure at all. Nevertheless, I'll take any bone the universe is willing to throw me."

Raditz nodded in agreement.

"Do your best to bring Kakarot around. I'll work on my end. Check back with me in three Earth days."

"As you command, my liege," Raditz bowed as the hologram dissolved into gray-blue snow once more.

With that done and over with, filling his belly seemed the most prudent thing to do.

Raditz retyped the combination to open the hatch on his ship. He slid out from behind the rousing child, aiming to keep him locked in the pod. No doubt he'd be fully conscious once he returned. Sick as he was of navigating these conversational minefields, he needed to think of how best to pacify the boy once he awoke. It wouldn't do anyone any good to have him crying and begging for his mother for the next several days. He'd never been alone with a kid before, which posed a conundrum regarding how calming a presence he could actually be if he put his mind to it. He decided he would dedicate his thoughts to the matter as he hunted down some grub.

The hatch closed behind him as he ascended the crater and traipsed through the leveled farmlands. He bent down and sifted through the dirt, looking for some edible vegetation, anything to satiate his appetite. The possibility of having to fly to a populated area to solve this problem was becoming ever more real. This irked him to no end.

As Raditz was preparing to take off, he heard a noise echoing across the horizon. He could've sworn it sounded like a sonic boom. He looked over his shoulder and spotted what appeared to be two bodies in the sky, miles away. Two bodies approaching at breakneck speeds, halving their proximity in the blink of an eye.

Two bodies headed straight for him.

Raditz tensed his muscles. He squared himself, anger rising in him like water attaining a rolling boil. Within seconds, Kakarot and some green thing in a trench coat landed before him.

 _You must be joking._

* * *

Goku flew alongside Piccolo. It was an odd sensation, traveling headlong into battle with his greatest enemy. It wasn't altogether unpleasant. Whether one counted Piccolo and Lord Piccolo as a single being reincarnated across two bodies or as a parent and child, this was the most civil they'd been in Goku's presence during either lifespan.

A year prior, when Gohan was taken for the first time, the pair united against a shared adversary. The friction between them was undeniable. All the same, their opposing martial arts styles worked in tandem excellently. Each fault in one complimented the other. Goku liked to think this was because they had more in common than they realized, that maybe they shouldn't abhor each other with such vigor.

Despite some notable exceptions which came out during their talk with Chi-Chi, Piccolo saw themselves as Lord Piccolo's spirit and mind reborn, full stop. Goku viewed the two's relationship as familial, even with shared memories and feelings considered. It was plain as day to him they were distinct people with separate thoughts, desires, and mannerisms. Goku's hatred was reserved for _Lord_ Piccolo, stemming from the losses he suffered at their hands during the deceased monster's reign. Truth be told, he didn't have much against their progeny when it came right down to it.

It was an instinctual thing, Goku's desire to always look for the best in others. To find noble qualities even _they_ weren't aware they possessed. It was an instinct he now knew ran entirely counter to the mental conditioning he underwent as a toddler. This cemented the principle as all the more worthwhile in his mind. More often than not, his life philosophy that everyone possessed at least a shred of good in them worked in his favor. Most of his friends were former would-be villains, turned by the man's innocence and kindness. He had a preternatural talent for curbing the insidiousness in someone's heart. He supposed he himself was no exception to the rule. Whatever sparked his inner light must've come from deep within, a place ingrained in the fabric of who he was. Otherwise, why else would he have concussed himself, coincidentally erasing his darker nature? One might argue handicapping himself for life at such a young age was a pure freak accident. It certainly wasn't without its consequences. One could also argue it was a rather decisive demonstration of fate's handiwork.

In Piccolo's case, Goku needed to put facts before intuition. He was forced to entertain the very real possibility they synced up well due to how much Piccolo studied him and his moves. Knowing one's enemy was one of the most important rules of engagement, after all. Learning the Turtle Hermit techniques like the back of their hand to better exploit them when given the chance was, more likely than not, Piccolo's aim.

Still. It was plain as day, as a duo, they were a force to be reckoned with.

"You feeling up to this?" Goku yelled from atop the Nimbus.

On the way, he'd spent a requisite few minutes getting them up to speed with what occurred on the beach outside Kame House. Piccolo already pieced most of it together on their own, based on what they sensed from the fluctuating power signatures. Though they sported an iron-clad poker face, Piccolo seemed distracted since the debrief, hence Goku's question.

Before leaving the rock valley, Piccolo donned a hooded, long-sleeved white robe. The trim around the sleeves and hood was gray. The bottom of the garment flapped in the breeze behind them like a cape. Inside the hood was a strip of eggshell cloth that doubled as a collar and neck warmer. Cascading over their forehead from underneath the top of the hood was another length of fabric, this one purple in tone with a silver border. This combined with the collar served the purpose of shielding their face from view or the elements, should they have decided to pull it up over their nose and mouth.

"Your brother's the one you should concern yourself with," Piccolo replied between labored breaths.

They were sweating like crazy, which further confused Goku. They shouldn't be expending so much energy keeping up with the magical little cloud.

"I would offer to let you ride with me if I didn't think you'd fall right through," the Saiyan joked. Piccolo grit their teeth and spat.

"I wouldn't be caught dead on that toy of yours, much less _with_ you."

"Touchy, touchy," Goku laughed. "Seriously—why do you look so tired? You sure you're not gonna be out of juice by the time we get to Raditz?"

Piccolo eyed their dubious cohort. They wrestled with telling him something. In the end, they gave in, only because it did pertain to the battle at hand. In all probability, the plan they were concocting would need Goku's willing participation to succeed.

"While you've been slacking off, growing complacent with your worldly pleasures, I've been training my mind and my body, nonstop. I have a few new techniques under my belt, one of which I've been passively charging since we set out. If we end up needing it, it could provide a nice, clean end to our mutual foe."

"Wow. You _have_ been busy," Goku complimented. "You test this one out yet? I'm dying to see it!"

"Not on anything living. Nonetheless, the experimentation I've done has proven more than sufficient. It'll be a shame if I have to waste it on this interloper. I was saving it to use on you."

Goku's jaw hung slack as he computed this. His look of shock turned into a smirk of excitement.

"Aww, you're sacrificing a surprise move you were gonna use on me to help me out. How sweet."

"I can turn around and leave you to contend with the alien on your own," Piccolo shot back, unable to contain the wry smile spreading across their own face. They were ashamed to admit they were enjoying this small bit of camaraderie. They chalked it up to having been in the wilderness with no one else to converse with. Being alone with one's own thoughts for so long could make any company tolerable, it seemed.

"No, no. In all honesty, I can't thank you enough for this, Piccolo. I owe you, big time," Goku divulged.

Piccolo paused before saying anything.

"I'm not doing it for you," they said at last, turning their head and avoiding eye contact.

"Huh. So even Big Green has a soft side. I know for a fact Gohan will appreciate it. I mean, you are helping save his life. Again. I better keep a lookout, or he's gonna side with you one of these days and try to take me out," Goku chortled.

"I told you, I don't give a damn if your brat lives or dies!" Piccolo snapped, shutting him up immediately.

Goku arched an eyebrow in puzzlement. Did he touch a nerve?

"Then…who are you doing it for?"

"Dangerous line of questioning. As I said, I can turn around."

"If you were gonna bail, you would've done it already," Goku chastised, seeing through the bluff. Piccolo sneered.

"I won't deny your wife has a gift for persuasion. She exploited a weakness I didn't know I had. I respect that. Anyone who bests me deserves my admiration if nothing else."

"Even me?" Goku asked, genuinely curious.

Piccolo was caught off guard by the query. They didn't quite know how to respond.

"I. Suppose," they said with great effort, disgusted with themselves. "I'll only say it once more, Goku. I'll do what I can to help you. To appease your woman. To keep your spawn away from Death's door for another day. Once this is over, nothing changes between you and I. Got it?"

Goku nodded. Somehow, he didn't think that would hold completely true.

"Sounds good. Also, can't wait to see this attack of yours."

"Problem is, I haven't perfected it. It takes a while to prime yet compensates with immense power. The more I use it, the faster I get with it. That said, if we find ourselves on the ropes, I might need you to provide a distraction so I can get a clear shot."

"I think I can manage that," said Goku. "Got a name for it yet?"

"I've been tossing around a few. Nothing so asinine as the 'Turtle Destruction Wave'."

"Hey, c'mon! Only Master Roshi's ever called it that. It's always been the Kamehameha, far as his students are concerned," Goku replied with mock indignation. To be fair, Goku thought even "Kamehameha" was a little unwieldy of a moniker for the ultimate technique of the Turtle Hermit martial arts school. It wasn't easy to say, nor was it descriptive in any way, shape, or form. Even so, he couldn't argue with how empowering reciting the words and firing a beam of shimmering blue fire from one's hands was. It was the type of feat most took decades trying to master, to harness enough spiritual energy for. The vast majority who tried couldn't do it, regardless how long they practiced. Performing the attack only a few short hours after witnessing it for the first time was what originally clued Roshi in to Goku's latent potential as a boy.

"For now, I'm calling it the Impaling Light," Piccolo spoke, jarring Goku from his trip down memory lane.

"Huh. That sounds pretty interesting. Little edgy, though, doncha think?"

"It's not an edged attack," Piccolo replied, confusion on their face. Evidently, they did not catch Goku's meaning. A rare case of the shoe being on the other foot.

"No, I mean, it's like you're trying too hard to make it sound cool. You might as well call it the 'Killing Gun', or the 'Special Beam Cannon'," Goku clarified. Piccolo grumbled.

"You haven't even seen it! It is not a cannon, nor is it a gun."

"But it _is_ special, right?" Goku grinned. Piccolo contemplated elbowing him off his vehicle.

A tremor went through both of them, strong enough to stop them in their tracks. They held their positions in midair, shaken to their cores by an incredible energy source.

"That would be him, right?" Piccolo asked. Goku nodded.

"He's close. Let's put on our game faces."

Goku hopped off the Nimbus and let it evaporate behind him. With a sonic boom, the two continued onward to meet their extraterrestrial quarry.

* * *

Raditz looked back and forth from Goku to Piccolo. It was a while before anyone spoke up.

"Kakarot. You're here sooner than I expected. Your wounds have healed nicely. And quickly," the elder Saiyan noted. He would need to figure out later what on this planet gave someone the ability to regrow a mouthful of teeth and mend broken bones in mere hours. He wondered if it had anything to do with that Kami fellow.

Goku said nothing. Neither did Piccolo. Raditz chewed the inside of his cheek, understanding the silence, the semi-psychic murmur beneath their traded glances.

The brain damage must've been more severe than he'd initially assumed. He'd hoped his sibling would've been smarter than this.

"I take it you're not here to talk? A foolish decision, really."

"I'm gonna give you one chance," Goku blurted. "Where's Gohan?"

Raditz stuck out a thumb and gestured behind him matter of factly.

"Kid's fast asleep inside my ship. He's fine. I told you I wasn't going to harm him. Just because _you_ needed to be taught a lesson doesn't mean you can't take me at my word."

"This doesn't have to go the way it did last time," Goku continued. He swallowed hard and placed his hands at his sides, his fists tight.

"Oh? I'm positively _trembling_ at the idea," Raditz mocked. He turned his attention to Piccolo. "Who's your new friend, here? Another comrade for me to play with? If this goes 'the way it did last time', I suppose I'll have to knock some sense into them as well."

"We're not friends," Piccolo piped in, their jade skin glistening with sweat. "I reckon you'll find me more formidable than the rank amateurs in Goku's entourage."

Raditz chuckled. He pointed an index finger in the green one's direction.

"I like this one. Certainly talks a better game than the others," Raditz praised.

"We don't have to do this. If you truly are my brother, prove it."

Raditz was growing irritated. He took a few steps towards Goku.

"And how shall I do so? You want a DNA test? Or do you wish me to abandon my mission as you did? You think I _want_ to kill everything on this rock? I don't take pleasure in ending lives, causing suffering. I don't do it for the paycheck, either. I'm not heartless."

"Then to Hell with your bosses! Join us. Fight alongside us. Help me protect this planet," Goku pleaded. "You're the strongest fighter I've ever come across. With you on the team, your company wouldn't stand a chance against us."

Raditz froze. He gulped a mouth of hot saliva.

"You'd be surprised."

The worst part wasn't Goku's defiance, nor his naïvety. It was the fact Raditz considered it, if only for a moment. A moment which seemed to stretch on and on in his mind's eye. He found himself enjoying the fantasy of having a real home to call his own. Others to care for. Someone to hold dear. He dared himself to think it could work.

As quick as the thoughts arose in him, the reality set in. His real allegiance wasn't to the Planet Trade. He needed to remind himself he served a truer master, held a greater purpose. And like it or not, his sibling was an essential component to said purpose.

"Did you bring my Scouter with you?" Raditz questioned through grit teeth. Goku furrowed his brow.

"Your what?"

"The device I gave you!" Raditz hollered, seething.

Showing his hand at this early a stage was ill-advised. Normally, he wouldn't have. But he thought it might be the only way to get through to his brother. To make him understand the larger machinations at work.

"Why?" asked Goku, unsure how the location of the headset mattered. He made a silent prayer to Kami the thing wasn't some sort of bomb Raditz could activate at any moment. The last thing he needed was the people he cared about in even more danger.

"Because my employers can listen in on it. Do you have it or not?" Raditz said, metering out his words, careful and cautious.

Goku debated telling the truth. He was reluctant to give away any possible advantage they had. At first, he wondered if the potential for Raditz's bosses to listen in might keep him on something of a leash. Then he remembered it was them giving the push to wipe out all life on Earth. The more Goku considered it, the less harm he figured being honest could do. He preferred it that way, anyway. He was a terrible liar.

"No. We Earthlings are more resourceful than you give us credit for. We didn't need it to find you," he answered after a spell.

"Good," Raditz said with a long exhale. The issue of how he'd been able to lock onto his power level without the device was a topic for another day. "Listen to me, Kakarot. The fate of one planet pales in comparison to what's at stake, here. As I said, you have a role to play in all this. Razing planets is busywork. It's a means to an end. I do it to blend in, to stay under the radar. To bide my time. I am an integral part of a rebellion that is forming."

"A rebellion against who?" Goku asked, his guard lowering ever so slightly. Piccolo folded their arms.

"My employer. The Planet Trade. Specifically, the one who owns and operates it."

"What happened to the Saiyans' arrangement with them being…mutually beneficial?" Goku retorted, struggling for a moment to recall the exact phrasing.

Raditz flared his nostrils.

"They're the one who destroyed our home planet."

Goku recoiled. Piccolo held their ground.

"Go on," Goku urged. Raditz shrugged his shoulders.

"After you were sent off Planet Vegeta, the leader of the Planet Trade Federation decided to sever their ties with the Saiyan race. Different individuals will give you differing reasons as to why. The result is the same, whichever explanation you subscribe to. They annihilated our homeworld. Not with an army. Not over the course of several long weeks. Not with a weapon. With their own. Two. Hands.

"They killed our mother. They killed our father. They murdered our king. The only ones who made it out happened to be off-world when it happened. We estimate the survivors to be in the single-digits. Thus far, we've been able to account for seven, of which we've made contact with four. Among them our prince, his attendant, myself, and you."

Goku listened intently. Finally, things were starting to make a little more sense. He wasn't quite so reluctant to believe Raditz when he claimed not to be heartless anymore. However, he was fuzzy on a few important details.

"Okay. So, what? You want me in this rebellion?"

"An over-simplification. But essentially? Yes."

"My problem is I don't see how killing all life on this planet helps your rebellion in the slightest."

Raditz pinched the bridge of his nose. It baffled him how these answers weren't obvious.

"The three of us who've already aligned hide in plain sight. The Federation exterminated our people, though felt hunting down the stragglers was unnecessary. That the death of our race was enough of a show of force. Either fall in line or stay the hell out of the way. We work for the tyrants who obliterated our home whilst we strive to undo them from within. Yes, it means doing our jobs and occasionally leveling another world. It's a dirty business, but we're good at it. All the while, we search for the other survivors so someday our prince may unite our powers under the common goal."

"So, that's the cost?" spoke Goku, having heard enough. "Watch millions perish—"

"—Billions," Piccolo chimed in, still as a statue. They too were apparently sick of the intruder's spiel.

"Thank you, Piccolo. Billions. For what? To avenge one planet? Well, it's NOT. Worth it. Can't you see? You're just another cog in this machine of torture."

Raditz growled. He clenched his fists and shifted his stance. Gravel and rocks began to levitate in the air around him. His anger was palpable.

"How DARE you!? Where's your pride? It's not about avenging one race, Kakarot. It's about avenging ours! And every other the Planet Trade has wiped out. They use us like puppets. We're not strong enough to fight back. Not yet. Not without all our cards on the table."

"All I'm hearing are excuses," Goku replied. He bent his knees and placed his elbows into his waist as he focused his energy, gathered power. Piccolo followed suit. More debris floated around the trio, the atmosphere growing thicker, more tangible. The static in the air caused the Saiyans' hair to crackle and flow as if in a gust of wind.

"Pains me to say it, but Goku's right. You and your ilk made your choice. You fell in line with monsters, expecting you wouldn't become monsters yourselves. Trust me, I know a thing or two on the subject. You see yourselves as heroes, playing the long game towards a greater good. You're cowards," said Piccolo. Goku looked in their direction, surprised by their words and delighted they seemed to be on the same page.

The expression on Raditz's face was one of pure, unadulterated rage. He flexed, causing a series of fractures to open in the ground beneath him. Clouds gathered overhead. The three warriors' power levels skyrocketed.

"Like last time it is, then," Raditz said from the pit of his throat. A vein pulsated in his forehead. "Call it tough love. One way or another, you will unite with us, brother. How many pieces you want to be in when you do is your choice. Along with how many of your dear ones need die before it happens."

The talk was over. Negotiations were through. The battle had begun.

Goku and Piccolo leaped from their positions in unison. They each landed on either side of Raditz and showered him with flurries of punches and kicks. He moved his arms and legs rapidly to block every blow, expending considerable effort in so doing. While Scouters always accounted for potential spikes, the amount of energy the two gathered in such a short while was unheard of. He was sure if he'd been wearing it, it would've sizzled and burst atop his skull in an electric frenzy.

Raditz seized Piccolo by the wrist in mid-punch. He twisted violently, taking the green one down to their knees. In the same instant, he craned his neck to avoid a roundhouse kick from Goku. He caught the leg at the peak of its extension and threw his brother aside by the ankle. He then delivered a dropkick to Piccolo's chest that sent him soaring backward.

Goku jumped to his feet and launched at his brother. He managed to land a decisive right cross that knocked Raditz off balance. He followed up with a knee to the stomach and a two-fisted smash to the elder Saiyan's spine. He expelled a mouthful of bile from the hit. He tensed his abdomen in preparation for another attack.

"You'll pay for that," he said as he palmed Goku's knee on its next approach.

He reached his free arm up and placed his hand between Goku's neck and shoulder. In one fluid motion, he lifted Goku off the ground and spun his body in midair before headbutting him in the solar plexus. The move was devastatingly strong, powerful enough to rocket Goku into the hillside several dozen yards away.

A green and pink striated length of flesh looped around Raditz's throat. No sooner did he register this than it tightened and yanked him off his feet. His oxygen supply was cut off in an instant. He fumbled at the leathery noose, suffocating as he moved.

As he tumbled upside down, he saw Piccolo a substantial distance away, reeling him in with what appeared to be their own elongated arm. Those extra few moments of being able to gauge the situation were the undoing of the strategy.

Rather than resist or plant his boots into the earth, Raditz tucked his body into the pull and extended his legs at the last moment to double kick Piccolo directly in the face. Soon as he did, Piccolo's elastic arm unfurled and receded to its original proportions.

While on their back, Piccolo performed a kick up and returned to a fighting stance. They charged forward and traded blows with Raditz. Half their moves connected, slowly but surely chipping away at the Saiyan's reserves of stamina. The other half were blocked or countered in brutal fashion. Piccolo was undeniably a challenge, yet brute strength was not on their side. If this kept up, the mongrel would outlast him.

" _Kaaa_ …"

Piccolo's ears perked up. They twitched and aimed towards Goku. He was preparing his signature technique. If he was able to pull it off, it might end up being the deciding factor in the encounter.

" _Meee_ …"

Goku was squatting a few feet away from a markedly him-shaped imprint in the rock wall where he landed. He pivoted his arms in great circular motions in front of him. As he did, particles of sapphire energy collected in his clawed hands. He recited the incantation that went along with the attack, each word becoming louder, more booming.

" _Haaa_ …"

Piccolo dove towards Raditz. They reached behind him, gripped, and proceeded to knee him repeatedly in the chest. It was a highly telegraphed play, thus Raditz was able to shield himself from most of the strikes. The point wasn't to harm him. They needed to keep him distracted, his guard directed away from his brother.

" _Meee_ …"

The orb of light in Goku's hands was now enormous and blinding. He pulled it to his hip, rotated his torso and compacted the shimmering ball into a more manageable state. White and blue fire swirled around him, heating his body but not burning it. A matching aura flashed and surged, igniting the grass at his feet. The ground started to buckle and shake beneath his might.

Raditz gripped Piccolo's calf and spun them by it. He used a variation of the move he performed on Yamcha and unfurled Piccolo across the ground like a whip. They screamed out in pain.

"NOW, GOKU!" Piccolo signaled.

Raditz arched an eyebrow before understanding washed over him. He whirled around to see his sibling throwing his hands outward in an open clamshell shape. The sphere of vibrating energy he wielded looked absolutely menacing.

" _HAAA_!" Goku bellowed.

Something triggered in the heart of blue plasma. It shifted once, twice, then emitted a piercing beam of raw energy. The beam only grew larger from its focal point. It scorched the earth it traveled over, devastating anything and everything in its path. Raditz danced on his toe tips, ready to evade at the last possible moment.

Piccolo delivered an impressive body slam to Raditz's vertebrae. It was enough to push him into the air and forward, on a direct collision course with the beam. With fractions of a second to spare, Piccolo scrambled to get out of the way. They almost made it.

Raditz raised his hands and attempted to palm the attack as it reached him. One arm ricocheted off the dynamism and became engulfed, the armor surrounding it singed off in an instant. He used that bit of momentum in tandem with a thrust from his other arm to corkscrew away from the blast. In continued onward through Piccolo. Goku funneled all his effort into moving the billowing fireball in his hands, causing the beam to curve around. Piccolo flattened themselves on the ground to avoid further damage.

Raditz had enough. He bared his teeth, tensed his upper body, and slammed his uninjured hand headlong into the blast. The beam stopped in its trajectory, spilling all its energy in a concussive detonation around the invader. The ground didn't stop shaking for close to a minute.

While smoke filled the area, Goku dashed over to Piccolo.

"Piccolo! Piccolo, are you all right?" he asked, frantic.

Most of their robe was burnt away, the remnants existing in smoldering tatters. He bent and grabbed the green one by the shoulder to hoist them to their feet. Once he did, he saw the terrible cost the duo's gamble had wrought.

Piccolo's left arm was severed—no, _disintegrated_ —at the elbow. The wound was cauterized, meaning they wouldn't bleed out there on the battlefield. All the same, this was a tremendous detriment to their odds of victory.

"Oh, man! Piccolo, I'm s-so sorry," Goku stammered.

Piccolo wobbled as they got to their feet, then shoved Goku's helping hand away.

"I'm fine! I've endured worse. Besides, we've got bigger problems."

The murky air was clearing. All was becoming visible once more. As the gasses dissipated, Raditz was revealed, still breathing, still standing. His palm was extended in the position it had been to catch the Kamehameha wave. The fingers jittered, the now exposed skin raw and burnt to a crisp. The Saiyan's gloves and shoulder plates were gone, melted or outright vaporized in the wake of the attack. He breathed heavily, the effort of neutralizing the beam having definitely taken its toll.

His tail looked to have unfurled from his waist at some point during the commotion. It now undulated at his side, reeking of burnt hair.

"First," Raditz huffed. "I'm going to grab your friend by the neck. Then, I'm going to tear off every other limb they've got. After, I'll break every bone in your body, Kakarot. I don't care if I have to bring you to my master paralyzed from the neck down. You are coming with me! And because you seem to delight in pissing me off, I'm going to take renewed joy in extinguishing all life from this infested trash heap. You won't be able to do anything but watch. I won't shed a single tear for the fallen," he raged, his voice ragged, the look in his eyes approaching mania.

Piccolo cinched their lips tight, wiggled their stump. They grimaced at the searing wave of anguish as it traveled through them.

"Crap. I'm. I'm sorry, Piccolo. This is all my fault. I m-might've just killed us," Goku whispered, crestfallen.

"Enough with the apologies! We'll worry about it later. We need a new plan, and we need it now."

"Got any suggestions?" Goku wondered aloud.

Piccolo smirked, despite the fury exuding from their shredded appendage.

"Yeah. One. I've gotta use my new move. Think you can hold him off long enough to give me a bead?" Piccolo formulated. Goku nodded without even considering what that would entail.

"You got it. How long do you need?"

"As long as you can give me."

Raditz walked toward them. It was a gradual approach. Perhaps he really was hurt and running low on power. Goku thought if he played his hand right, fought smart, he just maybe stood a chance.

He took off flying a few inches above the dirt towards his brother. As he sped at him, he made his hands into fists, ready to deliver a series of crushing blows.

Raditz plucked him out of the air by his throat and chokeslammed him. Each of the punches Goku prepared glanced off Raditz's seared shoulders, causing only the most minuscule amount of damage.

The ground caved in with Goku's impact. Raditz rounded on him. He sank a foot into his brother's ribs, descended bit by bit, snapping them one by one. Goku screamed in agony. He kicked like mad, landing several direct hits to Raditz's face and collarbone. He shrugged off the attacks and lifted Goku into the air before slamming him back down again. He repeated the motion five times more. Goku was done kicking after that.

Still holding him by the neck, Raditz cocked back and tossed his sibling like a fastball. He whizzed past Piccolo and landed in a crumpled mound outside the crater housing the spaceship.

Goku's head bobbed over the lip of the basin once he skidded to a stop. He drooled blood down the concave dirt barrier. From his perspective, he could see a topsy-turvy image of the Saiyan's pod. He watched with rapt attention as Gohan pounded on the circular window from the inside. He was scared out of his mind, tears staining his face.

Goku knew no matter how frightened his little boy was, the danger of his predicament (being trapped somewhere he wasn't familiar with) must've paled in comparison to seeing his father beaten and bloody a stone's throw away. He couldn't believe it was mere hours ago when everything was normal, quaint. They were all trading stories from their early days, with Gohan thrilled to no end, at last able to experience some of the hero worship all boys should feel for their fathers.

"You could've made this easy on yourself," Raditz hollered, trotting over to where he'd pitched his brother. He smiled gingerly at Piccolo as he passed them. The green one trembled, unsure if their compatriot was down for the count and if they'd have to step in.

Raditz arrived at Goku. He knelt down to face him.

"You started this. When you and your friend got here, you said you were going to give me one more chance, yes? Well, now I'm going to give you one more chance. This planet will be cleansed. Not everyone has to die. I know I can be pragmatic. I can also be merciful. The master I serve? The one who will be the savior of the Saiyan race? He's arranging transport as we speak for a hundred people. We aim to use them to breed new Saiyans on a planet far from the Federation's reach. Your friends and family can be among them. All you have to do is submit. Give up. Join your people, brother. Fulfill your destiny."

Goku spat blood into Raditz's face.

"My destiny…is to protect the people…right here," Goku panted.

Raditz swiped a hand across the red loogie speckled across his nose and forehead. This only resulted in spreading a ghoulish crimson smear across his visage. Goku sniggered.

"Lemme. Lemme guess. I'm gonna pay for—"

Raditz sucker punched him in the mouth. The sound echoed for miles.

Piccolo placed their index and middle fingers between their antennae. They focused and poured all their energy into a single point. It was now or never. They weren't likely to get a better shot. Goku was out cold. Raditz's back was turned. The distance between them was larger than they would've liked, but they were out of options. This was it.

"Impaling Light," Piccolo spoke low.

An infinitesimal ball of golden energy blinked to life at their fingertips. Sparks crackled off its surface as it rotated faster and faster. Debris hovered around Piccolo and into the sky in a helical shape. The earth began to rumble.

Raditz looked over his shoulder. He saw what Piccolo was doing. He rolled his eyes in exasperation, wondered when the hell this would end. He stood up straight and made his way to the amputee.

"Was this your plan? Thought you'd get the drop on me, eh? Let's have it," Raditz boasted. He made a fist and pounded his chest, puffing himself up.

"You talk too much," griped Piccolo.

This was no good. Since he was aware of what was going on, he would dodge the attack at the last possible second. As soon as he caught a glimpse of it, he wouldn't be stupid enough to try and tank it.

They supposed they were getting what they deserved for throwing in their lot with the man who murdered their progenitor.

Raditz stumbled. His eyes widened. It wasn't from Piccolo's steadily rising power level.

Somehow, Goku got to his feet. He was holding Raditz's tail firmly in his grasp. A bolt of real fear coursed through the elder Saiyan.

"My. M-my memory sucks," Goku spoke between staggered breaths, "but I remember one thing, clear as day. When I was a kid. When I…had a tail? Whenever someone did _this_ —"

He jerked with both hands in opposite directions. The thick, furry rope of flesh spasmed in his grasp. Raditz howled. Piccolo was awestruck.

"—it hurt. More than anything I've ever felt," Goku finished.

He throttled the tail again. His brother shrieked and instinctively backhanded him. Goku spat more blood yet didn't fall to the ground. He planted his feet, determined to be an immovable object, no matter how much of an unstoppable force Raditz was.

He squeezed the tail. He felt a bone crack beneath his grip. Raditz nearly threw up from the pain.

"Piccolo! Your attack! Do it now!" Goku shouted. Piccolo smiled.

"Well played, Goku," the green one yelled back.

They grinned with genuine pleasure. In seconds, the tide of the battle had turned. Now, Piccolo was presented with a far better opportunity than they could've ever dreamt of. They concentrated, poured every last ounce of strength they possessed into the revolving yellow orb in front of their face. Their antennae danced with the revolutions, their ears pointed straight behind their head.

"Kakarot!" Raditz begged. "You don't know what you're doing. If you kill me, someone far worse will come to take my place. I won't be able to protect you. There's no way you can ever hope to win. Your only chance is to join us. Please, listen to me! You're damning your entire race!"

He was panicking, on the verge of a meltdown. Goku felt an acute pang of guilt eating away at him. His hold loosened by a fraction.

"Goku, what're you doing!?" Piccolo cried out, disbelief blanketing their face.

He wanted things to be different. He wanted to be able to trust his brother, to _have_ a brother. He shut his eyes tight, chewed his lower lip.

"Goku, you cannot take pity on him!" Piccolo called out. "If you let him go, he will slaughter your entire family. You know he won't stop there—he'll destroy this world! You can't let that happen!"

"Don't listen," Raditz gasped. "Your place is with us. I won't harm your family. I'll stay here and fight alongside you, I swear it."

"HE'S LYING! Think about the millions he's already killed! THE BILLIONS!" Piccolo screeched, desperate.

Goku's eyes watered. This didn't feel right. Killing someone, let alone his own brother? It went against his very nature. The only exceptions he made in the past were when the fate of the Earth was on the line. Even then, it was only after the deaths of so many of his friends, so many innocents he did what needed to be done.

 _How is this any different? And when has knuckling an enemy under ever gotten them to change their ways? Either you finish him here, now, before he has a chance to kill anyone, or you do it later. If you can. By then, how much of the blood will belong on your own hands?_

He needed to stifle these feelings. Remorse could come later. When his son was rescued. When his friends were safe. When he was given room to gather his bearings, to reinforce the idea he did what was necessary. He knew no one else would blame him. Not his grandfather, not his master, not his wife. Not his boy. Only himself.

 _Don't even think about it._

"My race…is the human race," said Goku, his tone decisive and final. "If this is what the Saiyans have to do to survive…maybe they should be damned. Myself included."

Raditz lost it. He powered through the pain and rushed Goku. His moves were sloppy, muddled by anger and outrage.

Goku weaved in and out of each attempted strike. He wrapped Raditz's tail around one of his fists and pulled, using it as a guide to move him into the path of the attack.

"PICCOLO! NOW!" Goku roared.

He placed a foot in the small of Raditz's back. He kicked and yanked simultaneously, ripping out his sibling's tail by the root. The sound he produced in response was nightmarish.

Piccolo removed his fingers from his head and thrust them forward. As soon as he did, the marble of light burst, sending a corkscrew of energy at the aliens. It seemed to suck the color and vibrancy of the atmosphere surrounding, the glow growing more and more intense as it drilled through the stratus.

It reached Raditz in mere blinks. Once it connected with his center mass, it appeared to stop. Though the pause felt like minutes from all the fighters' perspectives, in actuality, it lasted a fraction of a second. The beam tunneled through the Saiyan, eating through armor and flesh as if they were nothing. Raditz couldn't even get out a scream before the attack burst from his shoulder blade.

Goku had just long enough to realize what was about to happen before it did.

Piccolo's move shot through Raditz, continued past, then entered Goku. Another brief pause preceded the technique doing exactly as it did moments ago. It emerged from his spinal column before arcing through the air and colliding with a mountaintop in the distance. The Impaling Light subsisted for an instant more until at last, it dissipated.

Raditz dropped to the soil like a ton of bricks. Goku collapsed to his knees. Blood bubbled up in his esophagus. The pain was white-hot and searing for all the time it took to fully splay onto the ground. Everything was numb after that.

The passage of time became fluid, immaterial. At some point after being run through, Goku noticed Piccolo standing much closer, only a few feet away from Raditz.

"Sorry, Goku," they snickered. They used a knuckle to wipe some extant sweat from their face. "My attack worked exactly as planned. Better than I imagined. I know, I kept you out of the loop. I told you, nothing changed between us. I helped you secure your kid and stop this blowhard. Now, you've paid for Lord Piccolo's life with your own. Consider us even."

Goku's head lolled to the side. He looked at Piccolo, his vision blurring and refocusing like a camera's aperture. Perplexingly, he smiled.

"Sounds…fair…to me," Goku hissed, practically inaudible. He knew Piccolo would hear it with those ears.

They knotted their brow in confusion. There was no way Goku could've seen it coming. He didn't even know the nature of the technique prior to witnessing it. How could he be so complacent with dying at the hands of his one true enemy? So peaceful-looking?

Piccolo wanted to devote more thought to the conundrum. Unfortunately, they were interrupted by Raditz twitching. Then convulsing. Then getting up.

"No. That's impossible," Piccolo muttered, slack-jawed.

The Saiyan rose, crimson vitality pouring from the gaping hole in his trunk. He covered it with a charred hand, the red seeming to retaliate from the pitiful attempt at mitigating the damage by redirecting out his mouth. He staggered towards Piccolo, unintelligible threats in the forms of gurgles escaping his lips.

 _The beam must've gone between his heart and lungs, judging from the point of entry. Close enough to damage both and destroy neither. If nothing else, Saiyans are tenacious._

Raditz extended his own index and middle fingers. An identical pinpoint of energy started to build there, though his was magenta in hue, as opposed to the sun-like shine of the Impaling Light. Piccolo was petrified, unable to move or speak or do anything in protest. They were spent.

 _I suppose this is what I get_ , Piccolo considered. They closed their eyes and sighed, inviting their doom.

Raditz raised his fingers towards Piccolo. What followed was a noise like a gunshot, though he hadn't yet fired. The sound was shadowed by another. One of rending metal. It rang much more akin to an explosion than an energy attack.

The last thing Raditz did was open his mouth in shock. Then, Gohan appeared, bursting headfirst through his uncle's chest.

 **To Be Continued…**


	5. Season 1, Episode 4 - Goku's Journey

**Last Time on…**

 **Dragon Ball: Reborn**

 _Desperate to save his son from his brother's clutches, Goku joined forces with his most fearsome enemy—the offspring of Lord Piccolo. After a heartfelt plea from Chi-Chi, the pair agreed to a temporary truce to put a stop to the alien who had come to destroy their world._

 _A great battle took place, and it soon became clear the duo was no match for the Saiyan invader. Goku challenged his sibling one-on-one while Piccolo prepared a deadly new technique, confident it would win them the day. However, not all was forgiven between the former rivals. Piccolo hid the fact their technique would not only penetrate Raditz but our hero as well._

 _Once Goku capitalized on the Saiyan weakness of the tail, Piccolo fired. The move put Goku down for the count, though wasn't quite enough to stop Raditz. As the terror from space arose to finish off his assailant, Gohan escaped from his uncle's ship in grand fashion. The little boy attacked from behind and emerged headfirst through Raditz's chest, putting a grisly and decisive end to the battle…_

 **Season 1, Episode 4 —**

 **"Goku's Journey"**

Chi-Chi sat with her arms folded. She tapped her foot out of nervousness—so fast, she was developing a cramp in her ankle. She gnawed on her bottom lip until it stung, producing a coppery taste in her mouth. She wanted to busy her hands with something, to find anything to fidget with. She contemplated twisting and gnarling the material of her dress between her fingers. Eventually, she decided not to. Otherwise, the garment would be shredded to pieces in minutes.

She tried to force herself to take deep breaths, to remain calm, to no avail. She was too on edge, too wound up. Only ascertaining the status of her family would pacify her. It was times like these she wished she continued her martial arts training long enough to develop the extrasensory abilities Goku and his friends did. What she would give to know how the battle was going, whether Gohan was safe. The waiting, the nervous anticipation, the not-knowing was almost worse than any of the imagined horrible outcomes.

Master Roshi sat across from her on the opposite bench in the cargo hold of Bulma's Capsule Copter. His head hung low, bobbing with the turbulence. His tortoiseshell sunglasses masked his beady eyes. Somehow, he was fast asleep, despite his broken ribs. The wheeze to his exhales was slow, rhythmic. Though he was far spryer than he looked, his advanced age couldn't have done anything but exacerbate the pain he was in.

Much like her, the old man's days of fighting were long passed. And yet, he tried valiantly to defend her and her son at great cost, without a moment's hesitation. For once, she didn't begrudge him taking a snooze in a moment of crisis.

Bulma was piloting, as per usual. When stressed, she would often partake in any manual labor or mechanical project she could find to stay occupied. Even menial activities would suffice in a pinch. More so than Chi-Chi, Bulma was the sort of person who tended to overthink things and conjure the worst possible scenarios in her mind. She lived by a hope for the best, prepare for the worst mentality. Busywork of any variety was the antidote to her anxiety. Driving the vehicle, maintaining altitude, keeping everyone stable and alive—these were things which required care, focus. It distracted her from picturing her godson dead, her childhood friend murdered in cold blood.

The team decided by majority vote Yamcha needed to stay at Kame House with Puar and Oolong. Turtle would be getting home from fishing soon. Someone would need to debrief him on everything that occurred while he was gone. If no one did, the poor thing would likely suffer a heart attack at seeing half his home blown to pieces without anyone to explain. Besides, with two busted arms, the former desert bandit would be more of a sitting duck than any of them if things went south.

Krillin took Chi-Chi's former spot in the passenger seat. After visiting Piccolo, vertigo started getting to her, forcing her into the back of the cabin where she couldn't watch the ground speed by beneath them. So much the better, in Krillin's opinion. Not that he didn't have any affection for the wife of his best friend. Nonetheless, there existed the very real possibility they were soaring towards their doom.

If they were going to die, of all the people in the copter at the moment, Bulma was the one Krillin wanted to be closest to at the end.

"How ya feeling?" he asked as the aircraft coasted along. The question was casual, yet no amount of flippancy could conceal the worry in his tone. He was well aware of Bulma's tendency to get lost in her own spiral of morbid thoughts.

Bulma found his worry endlessly endearing. He frequently did this—always downplayed his own injuries out of concern for someone else. The bruises on his bald head were ugly and huge. She wondered how he could possibly ignore them. It amazed her how much physical agony he could stifle to better fret over those he held dear.

"I'm okay, all things considered," she replied, not taking her eyes off the sky. "I only got knocked out. You guys got the worst of it. How're you holding up?"

Krillin used an exploratory index finger and lightly touched his forehead. He winced and wished he hadn't tested the waters. Bulma frowned with sympathy.

"I'll live," he confirmed.

"You sure we're still going the right way?"

"Yeah. Their energies are fluctuating like crazy. They're definitely still northeast of here. Once we get close, they should be hard to miss."

"Copy that," Bulma nodded. She took a hand off the cyclic to pat Krillin on the shoulder. She let her hand stay where it was. He smiled.

"Be sure to land this thing far enough away that we don't get caught up in it. None of us are in any condition for another go around. Unfortunately, this is in Goku's hands, now."

"And Piccolo's," Chi-Chi interjected.

Krillin sighed and turned to address her.

"I'm not sure how much we can trust them, Chi'ch. I mean, how many times have they tried to kill Goku? That's not even counting what their predecessor did to me. And Roshi. And Chiaotzu."

"Krillin, that's enough!" Bulma exclaimed. "Can't you see she's worried sick as is? If she believes Piccolo will help save Gohan, we should have some faith."

Krillin looked at his lap, sheepish. Sometimes, it didn't pay to be a realist.

"You're right. Sorry. I'm sure everything's gonna be okay. Piccolo will come through in the clutch. I mean, they did last year. And Goku _always_ does."

 _Ain't that the truth?_ Bulma pondered.

The notion relaxed her a little. Whenever things seemed their darkest, it never failed to comfort her to think of Goku. Much as she feared what could be happening to him right then, she needed to remember this was Earth's personal superhero they were talking about. The man could do anything. Never was there a problem he couldn't solve, an enemy he couldn't beat. He was bravery incarnate. Anyone who knew him could attest to the infectiousness of his courage. It was inspiring simply being in his presence.

Roshi shuddered. His glasses slid down his nose as he appeared to awake with a start.

"The fight's over," he announced. Apparently, he'd been meditating, not sleeping. Chi-Chi leaned in, clamoring for information.

"Well? Who won?" she pleaded.

Roshi didn't look at anyone. Instead, he studied a spot in the cabin's wall, his gaze and thoughts far away. His jaw hung slack.

"Bulma. Ya better step on it. We gotta get there quick," Roshi mumbled, just loud enough for them all to hear.

Chi-Chi began to hyperventilate. Krillin stared forward in stunned silence.

"Everyone buckle up," Bulma commanded.

She punched it the last dozen miles until they arrived at the basin that held the remains of Raditz's ship. A series of new, smaller depressions dotted the obliterated farmlands. The pod looked to have exploded at some point during the skirmish. For long stretches, the grass was singed or outright burning. Black, oily smoke filled the air, coalescing in a foreboding cloud above the battlefield.

"There!" Krillin shouted. He got on his knees in the copilot's chair and pointed at the ground, on the edge of the crater.

There were four bodies. They were difficult to make out from so high up, but it was obvious no one was moving. The battle had indeed come to an end.

"Oh no," Bulma uttered.

She yanked the cyclic and performed an impressive bank around the arena that would've made Yamcha proud. The copter touched onto the dirt and skidded several yards to a stop, taking up a large chunk of disturbed earth with it. She killed the power and opened her door simultaneously. No one waited for the rotor to slow to a stop before leaping out of the vehicle.

It was a grisly scene. Piccolo sat away from the other bodies. The only arm they still possessed hugged their knees to their chest. They didn't look up, didn't blink. It was hard to tell if they were even aware of the others' arrival. The only thing denoting they weren't completely catatonic were the movements of their ears and antennae, reacting to the many sources of fresh sensory input.

A dozen feet from Piccolo was a smeared pool of blood. The smear trailed around and past the facedown corpse of Raditz over to Goku. He was lying on his back, looking up at the sky. There was a gaping hole in his chest, spurting more blood like a geyser. Gohan was nestled in the crook of his arm, covered head to toe in red, sobbing uncontrollably.

"GOHAN, GOKU!" Chi-Chi shrieked. She ran over to her boy and tried to snatch him off the stained grass, but he wouldn't budge from his father's side.

Krillin dashed behind Goku. He did his best to lift his friend's head and upper body as gently as he could, scooting beneath him to prop him up. The fact Goku only continued to smirk during this, exhibiting no signs of pain, was telling.

"H-hey…hey, guys," Goku said softly as Krillin cradled him. Their comrade's eyes were half-closed, unfocused. His lips continued to mouth vowels, even as he stopped talking.

"You're gonna be okay. We're gonna get ya home, buddy. We can fix this," Krillin spoke, frantic, a lump building in his throat.

Blood poured from Goku's back like a faucet, soaking Krillin's pantlegs. He cringed in response.

"Don't…think that's. In the cardsss, pal," Goku hissed as more plasma escaped his lips.

Roshi and Bulma approached. Roshi stopped at a short distance, planting his walking stick into the soil and placing his weight upon it. His sunglasses and thick white beard masked most of his expression. Bulma made it to Goku's feet before collapsing to her knees. She trembled, unable to form any words. She ran a hand through her cropped turquoise hair and started to cry.

"Honey," Chi-Chi croaked.

She placed a hand behind her husband's head and craned her neck to look at him. She made sure to keep her other arm on Gohan, deciding it best to give up trying to take him away from the situation and let the boy grieve however he needed to.

"Chi-Chi. I. I told you I'd…bring Gohan home," Goku tittered between labored breaths. His skin was pale, clammy, growing colder by the moment.

"I knew you would," Chi-Chi wept.

Krillin squinted. He sized up Goku's lesion, then shifted his gaze. He eyed Raditz's lifeless body, as well as the much larger wound that felled him. The Saiyan intruder's long hair rustled in the breeze like crow feathers.

Krillin concentrated on Piccolo. Though missing an arm, they appeared more or less fine. Anger smoldered in the former monk.

"Goku," Krillin growled, "did Piccolo do this to you?"

Piccolo reacted for the first time since the troupe arrived. Without changing position, they rotated their head to watch the gathering. Evidently, they were interested in what the Turtle Hermit graduate had to say.

"Y-yeah," Goku confirmed, "but it's okay. Don't blame them. It was all…part of the plan. Raditz was. Too ssstrong for us. The only way to f-finish him…was to sssacrifice myself."

Piccolo's reaction to Goku's explanation was indecipherable to the others. To them, the green one merely continued to observe the proceedings. Perhaps they felt they owed Goku as much. To witness what their treachery wrought, firsthand.

Krillin wasn't pleased by this revelation. Nevertheless, his demeanor became less hostile. Instead, he refocused on his dying friend, determined to be present with him in his most critical hour.

Goku reached out a shaking, gory hand. It made its way to Gohan and caressed his cheek. Chi-Chi moved her hand from Gohan's shoulder and placed it atop her husband's.

"Everything's…gonna be okay," Goku mumbled, the end drawing near. "I…love you, all."

"Goku," Bulma hiccupped as tears rolled across her cheeks. She stuck out a hand and took hold of Goku's ankle. She didn't want to intrude on his last moments with his family, though wanted to touch him and let him know she was there, all the same.

Roshi cleared his throat. His mustache fluttered as he formulated something to say. At last, tears were visible in the small gap between the rim of his glasses and the beginning of his beard.

"It's all right, m'boy. If you gotta go, you gotta go. Don't keep yerself hurtin' on account a us," spoke Roshi. He tightened his grip on his cane, the rasp in his voice now more pronounced. He readjusted his glasses, unsure what to do with himself.

"Th-thanks…Master," Goku exhaled.

"No, wait!" Chi-Chi panicked. "Honey, I love you so much. I'm so sorry. I'm sorry I tried to change you. I'm sorry I—"

But he was already gone. His hand went limp and slid from Gohan's face. The weight of him became heavier in Krillin's arms, and somehow lighter at the same time. The crimson vitality ceased oozing from him.

In an instant, Earth's sworn protector, its greatest champion, was no more.

" _GOKU_!" Chi-Chi howled. She buried her head in his stomach, cried harder than ever in her life.

Krillin clenched his fists, grasped the cloth of Goku's orange gi tighter. He gnashed his teeth and groaned, his tears dripping onto the fabric. He removed a hand from Goku's back to punch at the ground. The earth folded beneath his knuckles, venting some of his anger and sadness.

Bulma slumped forward. She almost landed face-first in the mud. She managed to catch herself on her elbows.

This wasn't happening. Couldn't be. If anyone had asked her even hours ago if it were possible for Goku to die in battle, she would've scoffed at the idea. She refused to accept this.

Roshi turned away, unable to bear looking at the dead body of a man he'd been instrumental in raising. A man who might as well have been a son to him. His students and their loved ones were the only family he'd ever known. Though blessed with an abnormally long life, it still felt wrong to outlive any of his pupils.

" _Daddy_ ," Gohan blubbered.

The boy threw his head into his mother's neck and held her. She took her arms out from around her spouse and hugged her son tight, nearly strangled him with the ferocity of her grip.

In the distance was Piccolo. They were in the same spot, the same pose they held prior. The only difference was the look in their widened eyes, the slight gape of their mouth.

Their expression was a mixed one. Surprise, envy, shock, bewilderment, and the slightest hint of remorse, all mixed and plastered across their stony emerald face.

The cadaver twitched. Everyone flanking Goku recoiled with fright. They inched closer and watched as his skin crackled. As if someone took a chisel to a marble statue, splits bloomed all over his flesh. As the seconds ticked by, these fissures extended to his clothing as well. His already bloodless complexion turned grayer, more unnatural. Most of them hadn't a clue what this meant, what the significance was.

Goku's body burst. Not into a gruesome mess, but a plume of ashes. His skin and clothes and muscles and hair all went from charcoal to white, then disintegrated. Some of him scattered across the ground akin to dropped sand. The rest puffed into the air, glowing like dust motes caught in a sunbeam. Soon, there was nothing left of him. Even his spilled blood evaporated in an ethereal mist.

"What. What just happened?" Chi-Chi wondered aloud. Krillin shook his head in bafflement, unable to answer her.

Roshi spun once the desiccation commenced. As his mind caught up with what he'd seen, jigsaw pieces fell into place, one by one. Only he and Piccolo had any clue what really transpired.

Bulma stared, uncomprehending. Nothing she'd witnessed over the course of a lifetime accepting the coexistence of magic and science prepared her for seeing her friend explode in an ashen fog. She looked to Gohan, wondered how the little boy would reconcile such a display.

Her godson seemed shell-shocked, detached. He didn't make a peep. His tears ceased flowing.

"I've got a hunch," Roshi piped in amidst the horror and confusion. "Not sure, though. Don't wanna get anyone's hopes up."

They all examined the old man as he pulled his walking stick from the ground and levitated. His mind was running at a thousand miles per hour. Each wrinkle on his forehead symbolized a thought dancing through his consciousness. He performed a quick exhale of discomfort from his injuries.

"I'm gonna head back to Kame House. Yamcha should be rested enough by now to fly. I'll deliver the news. I'll tell 'im to bring Puar and Oolong back with 'im to yer place, Bulma."

"Yeah. Okay, sure," she replied, absentminded. Going home was the furthest thing from her mind, though doing so made the most sense.

"I'll touch base when I know somethin'," Roshi vowed, then took off in the direction whence they came.

A moment of silence preceded Bulma getting to her feet. Jarred from her daze, she brushed herself off and stepped over to the edge of the crater. She peered over its side and inspected the wreckage of the space pod. It laid in several large chunks, as well as a cornucopia of shattered small parts.

The minute circuitry and hull weren't salvageable. Nothing to be done about it. She figured she could make use of a great deal of the more important stuff.

"Krillin," she called out, "C'mere. You're way stronger than I am. I need you to grab as many of these big pieces of Raditz's ship as you can. Help me load them into the copter."

"What? Why?" Krillin questioned as he, too, got up.

"I want to study them. With those fragments and the device he left us, maybe tinkering with them can at least make something good come out of all this."

The former sadness was absent from the blue-haired scientist's face and speech. A mighty shifting of gears had taken place. She sounded resolute, ready to get to work. It was how she solved most problems which came her way. Whether such a thing was ultimately healthy was another discussion entirely.

"Bulma…are you sure this is really the best time?" Krillin asked, his brow knotted in puzzlement.

"Please. Just do it," Bulma replied curtly. Obviously, this was no longer a request, but an order.

Krillin moped and did as was told. He slid down the side of the pit and gathered as much in his arms as he could manage. While he did, Bulma went to face Chi-Chi and Gohan. They were still on the ground, bleary-eyed, yet not in hysterics anymore.

"We're all heading to Capsule Corp.," Bulma announced.

Chi-Chi stared up at her. She watched her for a while, thinking she understood what her new calm, calculated demeanor meant.

"I think Gohan and I should head home."

"Nope. You're coming with us. Not optional. We'll get you all cleaned up, have some food, relax a little. You two shouldn't be alone right now."

"I'll have my father. He'll come by to keep us company."

"Good. Call him. Tell him to meet us at Capsule Corp.," Bulma retorted, not taking no for an answer.

Chi-Chi wanted to be polite, to keep refusing, though she didn't want to. Returning to their house on Mt. Paozu would serve as nothing more than a carousel ride through all their memories with Goku. She was more than willing to put it off for as long as she could.

"One second," Chi-Chi said as she arose. She turned and traipsed towards Piccolo.

Bulma opened her mouth to say something in protest but thought better of it. She parsed it out rationally. If Piccolo was still a danger to them (at least at this very moment), they would've made it obvious already.

The green one watched the fair-skinned woman as she approached them with child in tow. She stopped mere feet from them. The look in her eyes was one of gratitude and scrutiny commingled.

"I want to thank you. You kept your word. You saved my son's life. Again."

Piccolo said nothing. They didn't wave away the gesture, either. Instead, they paid rapt attention to the strong-willed mother standing in front of them. The one whose life was falling apart, thanks to their actions.

"You should come with us. To Bulma's. I have some questions I would like to ask you. I'm sure you could also use a meal. Think of it as a reward. The first of many. I owe you more than I could ever dream of repaying."

They weren't sure why they agreed.

They got to their feet and sauntered towards the Capsule Copter. Before going inside, Piccolo froze. They debated doing something.

A yellow ball of energy the size of a melon materialized in Piccolo's hand. Their mind made up, they rotated their torso and threw it past Bulma. The team jumped, about to mobilize in retaliation, then realized the green one's aim.

The attack struck Raditz's dead body. Immediately, the corpse burst into flames. It smoldered and dissolved in the heat.

As Chi-Chi gawked, an increment of satisfaction made its way onto her grief-stricken face.

* * *

Hours later, as the sun descended past the horizon, the gang regrouped at Bulma's house.

The Capsule Corporation headquarters was a massive complex in the heart of West City. When viewed from the front lawn (specifically its cobblestone entrance path), the building was a gigantic cream-colored dome. Several long sections of violet window panes dotted the surface of the structure in an asymmetrical pattern. In the blank center of this cluster of sectioned glass were the words CAPSULE CORP. emblazoned across the exterior of the building in enormous cobalt letters.

A series of squat, rounded spires jutted from the roof of the edifice. These were the living quarters utilized by Bulma and her parents. The rest of the building was populated with R&D laboratories, testing bays, a few offices and boardrooms, and the homes of all its employees. Every scientist, lab technician, security guard, field tester, and groundskeeper lived on company premises. Even the hired help that maintained the cleanliness of the facilities were provided room and board, on top of their excellent salaries and benefits. Dr. Brief, ever the humanitarian, always strived to keep his immense staff as stress-free and dedicated to their work as possible. He decided one of the best ways to accomplish that was to eliminate the ever-present worry of paying rent. The cost of living was high these days, especially in a bustling, technologically advanced metropolis like West City. With the company being the most profitable and ubiquitous business entity on the planet, it was a concession the good doctor could afford a thousand times over.

When seen from a side angle or behind, it was revealed the Capsule Corp. HQ was in actuality a half-dome. These exposed parts of the building were where the numerous hangars, open-air gardens, and the majority of the recreational facilities existed. Presently, the Z-Warriors were in Bulma's sprawling personal lab in the east wing.

Krillin sat on a barstool at a marble kitchen island, nursing a bowl of soup. Piccolo sat across from him with a glass of water, avoiding eye contact. Chi-Chi and Gohan were on the floor of the dining area in the kitchenette. She was using a wet cloth, diligently trying to clean all the blood from him. Bulma offered to let her godson wash up, but he remained unresponsive. Normally, Chi-Chi would've gone and bathed him herself. He was still her little boy, after all. Gohan had put a stop to that almost a year ago, saying he was too grown-up for such a practice.

Bulma was at her vast white desk, about twenty feet away from the others. Next to her on the long flat surface was a particularly intricate hunk of Raditz's ship. She wore a welding mask to protect her face as she soldered wires and pieces together.

Krillin continued to stare down Piccolo. He made a show of loudly slurping his tomato bisque, making absolutely sure Piccolo knew they were being watched.

"So," the small man began, smacking his lips, "you mean to tell me you never eat? You only drink water? How do you build and retain muscle mass?"

Piccolo squinted their eyes and shrugged with indifference. Goku's friend was trying to bait them into an argument, or worse yet, a fight. They weren't planning on indulging him.

"Beats me. If more of my kind exist beyond myself and Kami, I don't proclaim to know how our biology works. Just that it does."

Krillin narrowed his eyes in return and took another loud sip from his spoon.

"Piccolo," Chi-Chi said, diverting the tension.

She tossed the rag she was using to clean Gohan into the nearest trashcan. The little one still had some stains on his coat and in his hair, but for now, it was as good as he was going to get. He would need a long, hot soak to get the rest out. The outfit was likely done for, meaning if nothing else, she and Goku wouldn't have to argue over him wearing it again.

 _How quickly we forget. You won't be arguing with him about_ anything _anymore,_ she thought to herself.

She took a moment to regain her composure before addressing Piccolo again. Gohan remained on the floor, sitting on his knees, staring at the reflective black tiles. She prayed this was only temporary, that he would break out of this numb state soon. She didn't know what she would do if there was a bigger problem at play than the shock of seeing one's parent die in front of them.

"I wanted to ask you how the battle went," Chi-Chi continued as she took a seat next to Krillin. "What went down, exactly?"

"You sure you wanna know?" Piccolo probed. The woman's tenacity surprised them yet again. They couldn't tell if it was a quality she'd leeched from her husband, or if it was a raging fire all her own.

"Yes. I'm sure. I lost the love of my life today. I at least want to know how it happened."

Krillin let his spoon rest in the half-empty bowl. He'd been waiting for this explanation as well.

Piccolo's eyes darted between them. They let out a sigh, then told the story.

"It was a fierce battle. Raditz was unlike anything I'd ever fought before. Even Goku's strength combined with my own wasn't enough to stop him. We tried everything. Coordinated attacks. Physical barrages. Energy waves. Nothing sufficed. At one point, Goku used the Kamehameha. It would've been to great effect, had Raditz not tanked the brunt of it. I did the best I could to keep him in the path of the beam. Because of that, I wasn't able to get out of the way in time. I lost my arm in the process," they said as they gave their cauterized stump a wiggle.

"Boo-hoo," Krillin said in a flat monotone. "Your kind can regenerate, right? Why haven't you made it grow back yet?"

"I used up everything in the fight. Regeneration expends a lot of energy. I _could_ create a new arm right now if I so wished. I'd likely pass out on the floor if I did. I'm nothing if not patient."

"Still doesn't make sense you only drink water. How do you generate new biomass?"

"Krillin, enough!" Chi-Chi interjected.

The former monk cowered. He didn't like this was becoming a pattern. Piccolo snickered.

"As I was saying, I lost my arm. My usefulness going forward was suspect, at best. Prior to us arriving on the battlefield, I disclosed to Goku information on a new technique I was perfecting. One that might win us the day. It was a move I created to destroy him with."

"Looks like everything went according to plan there, huh?" Krillin seethed. Chi-Chi smacked him on the top of his head, narrowly missing a bruise.

Piccolo faltered in their explanation. A pang of guilt ate away at them, wholly unsolicited. The man in question was the one who killed their creator, took away any other drive they might've had in life. Why did they feel so conflicted over succeeding in killing them? It was something they'd worked towards for years. Their sole obsession. Was it their newfound lack of purpose? The emptiness that follows achieving such a monumental goal? They couldn't begin to know.

"He bought me the time I needed. Raditz was still on the offensive, still too strong. Goku seized his tail, immobilizing him. He told me to fire. I did. I was delighted—I would kill two birds with one stone. I would stop this monster, fulfilling my promise to you," they said to Chi-Chi, "and achieve revenge against my mortal enemy. Be it saving a life or taking one, I consider my word my bond.

"My attack wasn't enough to kill Raditz. My aim was a little off."

"Can't imagine why," Krillin muttered. Piccolo ignored it.

"He got up after the beam pierced him. I thought I was done for. Then, the boy appeared. He forced his way out of Raditz's space pod. He propelled himself through the air. The hole in Raditz must've been precisely big enough to weaken the structural integrity of his chest. Rather than ricochet off him or knock him to the ground, Gohan blasted straight through him. Not unlike how Goku felled my predecessor. That's why the boy was covered in Raditz's blood."

"See? Now I _know_ you're making this up," Krillin scoffed.

"Believe what you want."

"Did Goku know your attack would kill him, too?" Chi-Chi asked. Her expression was blank.

"I thought not. I won't lie to you. I did not divulge said tidbit to your husband. I genuinely believed I got the drop on him when my technique tore through Raditz, then continued on to Goku. When I approached him in the aftermath…he seemed satisfied. Almost pleased. I felt he couldn't have known it would happen.

"Perhaps he enters all battles with the knowledge he could die. Maybe he approaches all plays as being potentially self-sacrificial ones. In any case, as you can all attest, he didn't begrudge my trickery. All that mattered to him was the safety of his son, and by extension, the Earth."

Piccolo brought their fingers to their face and pinched the bridge of their nose. They gathered their thoughts, still not knowing what to make of Goku's motivations, as well as their own.

"I suppose Goku knew me better than I imagined. In all probability, he knew very well I would take any opportunity I might find to dispatch him. Planned for it. Made sure if it was going to occur, it would at least serve the ultimate purpose. The grand design. Sometimes I think he's not as stupid as my forebearer pegged him. Even in death, Goku has bested me. For I cannot reconcile this… _regret_ I feel."

Krillin's fist shook atop the polished surface next to his food. He kept his cool, much as he wanted to leap forward and throttle the overgrown slug.

Chi-Chi experienced no trouble staying calm. Quite the contrary, her demeanor towards Piccolo mutated from one of thankfulness and amicability to one of cold indifference.

"I see. Thank you for your honesty. I appreciate it," she said before getting up and rejoining Gohan on the ground.

"You haven't changed," Krillin spoke low. "I dared myself to think for a second you might've. That Goku saw something in you no one else could. I figured if you were willing to risk your own life to save Gohan's not once, but twice? Maybe he was on to something. Maybe there was more to you. I was wrong. And so was he. You took the trust and faith of the best of us, and you threw it away without a care in the world. You don't give a damn about anyone except yourself. You're no less a monster than Raditz was. Go back to the hole you crawled out of," said Krillin. He stood from his seat and turned away from the green one. Piccolo only sat there, stunned.

Krillin crossed the room and made his way to Bulma. He placed a hand on her back.

"You get all that?" he asked. Bulma nodded, her reaction to the information masked by her helmet.

"Yeah. Dude, get a look at this," she said, changing the subject. Her voice was tinny and muffled.

Krillin tilted his head, unsure how she could've processed the aforementioned conversation and have no response to it.

"'Dude'? Seriously? Your Yamcha is showing," Krillin mocked.

"Whatever. Look, check this out. Raditz's ship had a super-sophisticated kind of projection technology. See these two laser arrays? They work in tandem to draw a 3D image on charged particles in the air. This is amazing," she marveled.

"Uh-huh," Krillin responded, growing irritated. "Is this really important right now?"

"Of course it is! Don't you see what this means? I'm on the verge of getting this thing working again, independent of his ship. I've already got it wired to the headset he gave Goku, which appears to have three main uses. First and foremost, it analyzes biometric signatures, pretty inaccurately. It accounts for power spikes, though since you can all mask and raise your energy levels at will, it's basically useless for that function. Boards in it are also shoddy. This thing couldn't even handle a stress test of _you_ maxing out your power."

"Hey, what's that supposed to mean?" Krillin balked, offended. Bulma steamrolled past his query.

"Its secondary use is as some kind of oral commlink. It has a surprisingly high threshold for range and vocal clarity. My guess is this is what Raditz and his cohorts use to communicate if they aren't anywhere near their ships. The third primary use is the most interesting. This thing has a built-in, real-time translator. Actually, calling it a translator would be downplaying it. It doesn't process what it hears and regurgitate it both ways to reconcile lingual differences. Once it catches a sample of an unknown dialect, it uses its inner ear connection to interface directly with the user's brain. It literally rewires your neural pathways on the fly. It processes any words or phrases it hears and autocompletes the language, feeding it into your head, teaching it to you almost instantaneously. Do you have any idea how insane that is? I've never seen anything like it. Imagine what it could do if someone like me rebuilt it—if it wasn't made with such garbage materials. If I can reverse engineer it, Capsule Corp. can utilize this tech in all its future computer and phone designs. Holographic telecommunication with no language barriers."

"Huh," Krillin replied, uncertain he was able to follow everything she said. "S'cool, I guess."

"It's more than just 'cool', Krillin. This could be revolutionary. Especially with—"

A spark of electricity arced between the headset and the piece of machinery she was working on. The bolt struck the inside of her elbow, a few inches above her thick rubberized gloves. She shot up from her seat and cursed angrily.

"Woah! Bulma, you okay?" Krillin asked, taken aback.

"No! I'm not okay!" she shouted. She tore off her helmet and threw it across the room. It clattered loudly against the far wall. Chi-Chi looked up and immediately covered Gohan's ears, though he didn't budge at all from the outburst.

"It's fine, what do you need? Is there a first-aid kit somewhere?" Krillin questioned.

"I don't need a first-aid kit!" she screamed, getting more and more frustrated. "I electrocute myself every day! You see me crying about it? NO! What's not okay is I can't do a single thing right. I can't make this piece of crap behave the way I want it to. I can't protect my friends, my family—I'm useless!"

Bulma plucked random objects off her desk and hurled them across the room, each impact and explosion of parts and pieces louder than the last. Krillin shrunk in terror, knowing better than to say another word, to interrupt her fit.

"'Hey, Bulma, wanna give us a ride somewhere?' SURE! No problem. 'Hey, Bulma, can you fix this thing for us?' Yup, it's what I do! But I can't do anything that _matters_!" she cried, her face turning red, tears dribbling down her cheeks. She continued to smash, continued to trash her lab, her attempts at distracting and immersing herself in work having failed utterly and completely.

Once she was out of breath, she turned towards her desk and used it to stabilize herself. She sobbed, her voice raw. Her shoulders hitched and she struggled to remain upright.

Krillin's heart ached for her. He approached, intending to embrace her and tell her everything would be all right. Before he could reach her, she plucked one more object from her desk and cocked back, ready to toss it. She stopped in mid-arm extension and looked at the item in her grasp. It was rectangular with a lime-green crosshatched screen, its casing glossy and white. She stared at it for a long time. Her tears gradually ebbed away.

It was the Dragon Radar. She built the thing when she was a teenager. It was used to detect the very specific frequency given off by the Dragon Balls, therefore acting as a locator for them.

"Oh. Oh, for Kami's sake. I am _such_ an idiot!" Bulma proclaimed. A grin stretched across her face, causing Krillin to wonder if she'd officially snapped, lost her mind.

"I'm. Sure that's not true," he said carefully.

"No, I totally am," Bulma laughed. She walked towards Krillin and threw her arms around him in a bearhug. He didn't resist the gesture, though was all the more confused by it.

"Uh, Bulma? Maybe you should lie down," Krillin said, his voice muffled by her bosom.

He was so conflicted. Half of him wanted to settle in and revel in this physical contact he was having with her. The other half, the one loyal to his friend and possessing the presence of mind to realize she was probably experiencing a psychological breakdown prevailed. By necessity, his concern, his worry for her outweighed his desire for intimacy.

"Krillin, don't you see? We can use the Dragon Balls. That's why I'm a dummy. Why didn't I think of this sooner?"

Krillin's heart skipped a beat. He forced himself to pull away from her and studied her face.

"What? What do you mean?"

"We can use the Dragon Balls to bring Goku back to life!" she yelled with joy.

Exactly ten seconds of quiet ensued before Krillin lost it. A grin matching Bulma's tattooed itself to his face. He gripped her hands and danced with her in a circle, jumping and shouting in unrestrained jubilation.

"You're right! How did we not think of that!?" Krillin bellowed. Bulma gave a comically exaggerated shrug and started to laugh hysterically.

The bald man turned and dashed towards Chi-Chi and Gohan.

"Guys, didja hear? We can use the Dragon Balls to wish Goku back to life! Just like we did back in the day for Roshi and Chiaotzu. And yours truly, of course. We've already got yours. We only need to find the other six, and Goku won't be dead anymore."

Chi-Chi stared at Krillin, slack-jawed. Little by little, the color and light returned to her. Her eyes became wide and tear-filled, her frown curving into a smile.

"Well. That certainly is good news," she hiccupped.

Relief washed over her in an awesome wave. She cupped her son's face in her palms and forced him to look up at her.

"Did you hear, Sweetie? Your dad's going to be okay. He's coming home," she whispered, elated. Gohan seemed to recognize the words she was saying, though still didn't react to them.

Piccolo stared. Deep down, they knew this would be a likely outcome, though for obvious reasons didn't bring up the idea themselves. Their feelings pertaining to this revelation were inscrutable to the others. Even the green one couldn't explain the tiny shred of gratification they felt at the idea of Goku's impending return.

A blaring note thundered across the room. Everyone but Gohan flinched at the sound. Piccolo, in particular, was nearly incapacitated by the high-pitched digital whine. It was coming from the equipment on Bulma's desk. At first, she assumed she crossed a wire or some sort of feedback was issuing forth from the speaker of Raditz's headset. Once the cacophony abated and words were spoken, she realized a signal was being broadcast.

"Raditz? Raditz, come in! We received your Attack Ball's distress signal," said a gruff, throaty voice. As the mysterious addresser spoke, the projector system Bulma brought back to functionality activated. The twin lasers worked in tandem, stenciled a fragmented image of what looked like a man.

 _Uh-oh. His ship's beacon must've been programmed to send out a signal if destroyed_ , Bulma considered. Krillin uncovered his ears and circled around behind the figure as it bloomed into existence.

There were large parts of the hologram missing, likely due to the laser arrays still being damaged by Gohan's outburst. Nonetheless, enough of the picture was complete to give the group a sense of who was contacting them. Bulma faced the computerized apparition and gulped.

"Who are you? Where's Raditz?" the man demanded.

He didn't have a particularly imposing stature. He was taller than Krillin, only a half-inch or so more than Bulma. He had severe, angular features. His long dark hair was slicked back but stuck out behind his head at a straight angle. His eyes were narrow and menacing. He wore a jumpsuit and set of armor similar to Raditz's, though with long sleeves and lighter hues on the shoulders and abdomen.

"I'll ask again. _Who_ are you? _Where's_ Raditz?" the man spoke, anger contorting his face.

"My name's B-Bulma," the young woman said nervously. She waved a hand through the hologram and felt the minuscule hairs on her arm stand up and become charged with static. "Can you see me?"

"Well enough. The image is distorted on my end, but I can hear you loud and clear. You seem to have difficulty hearing _me_ , so I'll ask one more time. WHERE is Raditz!?" the man snapped. Bulma was jolted by the outburst, though did not back down.

"He's dead," she said with a wry smile.

The color drained from Krillin's face. Piccolo stood from the kitchen island. Chi-Chi vibrated with fear. And for the first time in hours, something clicked on in Gohan. He had his head turned as he watched the goings-on in the lab with intent, studious eyes.

"He's _what_?" the projection growled. The fury on the man's face was terrifying, despite his unassuming height.

"That's right. He's dead. D-E-A-D, dead. Need me to say it louder?" Bulma teased, unsure where this sudden surge of defiance was originating from.

"How? Explain yourself!"

Bulma puffed out her chest, masked her apprehension with more false bravado.

"Our friend Goku killed him. What're you gonna do about it, huh?"

"Bulma, shut up," Krillin said under his breath as he raised his hands in supplication.

"No, I won't shut up," she clapped back. "You heard me. Earth's not ripe for the taking. It has defenders. _Heroes_. You wanna go up against us? You wanna try to take our planet by force? You're gonna need an army, pal. I don't care if you think Goku is one of you or not, he's _ours_ now. You can send a hundred more like Raditz and he'll mow 'em all down just the same."

Krillin was petrified. Piccolo stepped closer. Chi-Chi shook her head in disbelief. Gohan remained attentive. Bulma was sweating, exhausted by her own spiel.

"This one's a keeper," the man said to someone over his shoulder outside the hologram. The rage appeared to have left his visage, now replaced with admiration and mirth. He looked Bulma up and down, gave her a once-over. She creased her brow and folded her arms over herself in response.

"I can assure you this, Earthling. We won't need an army. I guess Kakarot is stronger than we all anticipated if he succeeded in defeating Raditz. This complicates the plans I had for him significantly. Such inconveniences will not go unpunished."

"That your idea of a threat? We're not scared of you," Bulma replied, lying through her teeth.

"Heh. I can see. No matter. When things don't go your way, pivot and readjust. It's the only way to survive in this universe. I'll let my bosses know sending a fleet won't be necessary. My attendant and I will request to be sent to Earth personally. I don't imagine they'll protest, considering your people murdered one of our own, a close friend of mine. So much the better. Recruiting Kakarot, making him bend the knee, obliterating your planet? All work best taken care of myself."

"Boy, you're an arrogant one. What makes you so confident you'll win? If Goku could beat Raditz, you twerps will be a piece of cake," Bulma boasted. Krillin was on the verge of fainting.

The man chuckled. Soon as he did, another figure stepped into the hologram behind him. He was muscles on top of muscles. He was so big; his whole body didn't even fit in the image. Everyone's blood went cold.

"Because, while Raditz was strong, he was nothing compared to my attendant and myself. Be ready, _B-Bulma_. I look forward to meeting you in, oh, let's say, one Earth year."

"F-fine! We will be," she stammered. With that, the 3D projection blew up in an expanding cloud of iridescent blue dust.

"Bulma," Krillin spoke up after a spell, "what the hell did you do?"

"I. I don't know. I'm still emotional, all right? And the guy got to me."

"You're _emotional_? That's your excuse for endangering our whole planet!?" he yelled, incredulous.

He couldn't believe this was happening. Not even a day after an alien invasion which cost them their best friend, another, even worse one was on the horizon.

"It's no biggie, Krillin. I don't believe the blowhard for a second when he boasts about how strong he is. Raditz did the same thing and we managed to take him out."

"Barely," Piccolo chimed in.

"Still. We'll mobilize, get the whole gang together. Train. We've got a year! Little dude might as well have handed victory to us on a silver platter. And that's way more than enough time to gather the Dragon Balls and wish Goku back to life. Those aliens don't even know he's dead, so there's an advantage on our side."

Krillin was speechless. Much as he cared for Bulma and touted her peerless intelligence, for once he did not believe she was thinking things through.

"I wanna fight."

Everyone in the room spun towards Gohan. He stood from the ground, untangled himself from his mother's arms, and stepped to where the hologram used to be. He removed his yellow, blood-splattered coat. He took off his suit jacket, tie, and button up. All that was left were his polished shoes, green slacks, and a pale undershirt. He looked up at Piccolo, his pudgy face tight and determined.

"Train me," Gohan said to Piccolo.

"Absolutely not! No way," Chi-Chi blurted. She scrambled off the floor and ran to her son's side.

"Buddy, you can't be serious," said Krillin.

"I am. I wanna be strong like my dad. I can help. If someone will teach me. I helped against Raditz."

"You…you remember?" Piccolo stuttered. Last year, Gohan completely forgot the role he played in felling the first enemy they and Goku united against. Then again, the boy was only three years old at the time.

"A little. I remember…flashes. I know I got out of Raditz's ship. Somehow. I know when I did, he was still standing. Then I blacked out. When I woke up, Raditz was down. I was covered in blood. It felt icky."

"I knew telling him stories about his dad was a bad idea," Chi-Chi said through clenched teeth before shooting daggers at Bulma and Krillin with her eyes.

Gohan tugged at Piccolo's pant leg to reacquire their attention.

"Please. Teach me how to fight. If my daddy was strong, I must be, too. Right?"

"Not yet. You can be," Piccolo said without thinking. Chi-Chi rounded on them.

"What do you all not understand about the word 'no'? Gohan, I just got you back. I can't lose you again. I've already lost your father," she said, tears encroaching on her. Her son looked at her sympathetically.

"You didn't lose him. He'll be back soon, remember? With the Dragon Balls? And don't worry about me. I won't get hurt. Piccolo will protect me."

Piccolo was aghast. They were not consulted on that last bit. They didn't even recall whence they became drafted into this conflict.

"Gohan, I am your mother, and I am telling you NO."

"Mommy," Gohan said as he trotted closer to her. She knelt to face him.

"I'm not bending on this, Sweetie. You can't train. I'm not letting you turn into some boxing musclehead like your dad."

"I have to. Isn't it wrong for a good person to not do something when they know they can?" the boy postulated.

Chi-Chi faltered. She took hold of his shoulders.

"Well. Yes. But not you! You're only a child. No one's expecting this of you. No one needs you in this fight."

"Not now. The fight's not here. Not yet. What if it takes Aunt Bulma more than a year to find the Dragon Balls? What if Daddy's friends can't get strong enough? You always say how smart I am. What if I'm smarter than all them? Maybe they'll need a smart kid."

"You're definitely smarter than all them," spoke Bulma with a grin and a sidelong glance. She was more than a little to blame for said fact. She couldn't be prouder.

"Why? Why won't anyone listen to me?" Chi-Chi fretted. Gohan bit the inside of his cheek and placed a tiny, cold hand on her face.

"It's okay. Everything's gonna be okay, Mommy. You've all been saying that so much today. It's time for somebody to believe it. Daddy did. You should, too."

Chi-Chi looked her boy in the eye. She saw so much of his father in him, then. All his bravery, his goodness, his inability to accept a selfish answer to any problem. She wanted to keep the argument going, to exercise her rights and fulfill her duties as a parent.

She knew a day like this would come. She'd been mentally preparing for it over a year, now. Gradually, her resolve weakened. She couldn't muster the fortitude to keep fighting for the wrong thing.

Gohan about-faced to address Piccolo again.

"Will you train me? You killed my dad. You kinda owe me."

The green one almost let out a hearty guffaw. They stifled it, in awe of the boy's gumption. They should've been offended by such an obvious ploy, such an over-the-top attempt at manipulation.

They were starting like him.

"Gohan, what if I trained you? Then you're not, y'know, getting taught by your dad's worst enemy?" Krillin begged. Gohan made an apologetic face.

"Sorry, Uncle Krillin. Piccolo's way stronger than you. Besides, he's fought a…what was it called? A Saiyan? Yeah, a Saiyan. He lasted a lot longer than you did against one. I think he'll have more to teach me."

Krillin crossed his arms in embarrassment, the violet contusions on his head matching his bruised ego.

"All right. I will instruct you in the fighting arts. I will show you how to control and manipulate your energy. I will make you a force to be reckoned with, child," said Piccolo.

"I have some conditions," Gohan piped in. Piccolo blew out a mouthful of air.

"On with it, then."

"Number one. Don't go easy on me 'cuz I'm four. I wanna work as hard as my dad did to get strong."

Piccolo nodded in approval.

"Second. I get to see my mom on weekends. I get to go home two days a week. Okay?"

"What is this, a custody hearing!?" Krillin shouted. He threw up his arms in exasperation.

Piccolo mulled the proposition over. They rolled their eyes and agreed.

"Probably for the best. It does no one any good to tear themselves down twenty-four hours a day, every day. Rest is as essential to becoming strong as lifting weights and honing your techniques. Goes without saying I'll need a break from you as well."

"Gohan," Bulma uttered. "I'll start looking for the Dragon Balls right away. We'll get your dad back to you soon. I promise."

Gohan smiled.

"Good," the tyke declared.

He stuck out a hand towards Piccolo. The green one hesitated before shaking it. They needed to force themselves to be far gentler with the gesture than they otherwise might've been.

"Partners?" Gohan questioned.

"Partners. For now," Piccolo replied begrudgingly.

* * *

Master Roshi hovered with his legs folded in what used to be the second story of Kame House. He rested his hands on his thighs facing up, his thumbs and index fingers touching. He breathed deep, concentrated his power, poured it all into healing.

He felt the moist wheeze in his lungs slowly alleviate as the bones in his chest reset, fell back into place. This would be a long, arduous process, though shorter than it might've been if he wasn't proficient in redirecting his body's natural flow of energy where it was needed most.

The sun was dipping under the most distant waves of the sea. It would be night soon. Since Yamcha and the talking critters were out of the house (save for Turtle), he was ready for the most pertinent item on his to-do list.

He needed to reach out and touch someone.

"Kami," Roshi whispered to himself.

His skin grew tingly. All his infinitesimal white hairs stood on end. He shut his eyes and slowed his respiration to a crawl. He could hear his heart thump in his ears. The noise eventually receded into the background, became one with the lapping of the ocean waves at the island's shore.

"Kami," he repeated, louder. He could feel his aura extending out beyond his body, reaching into the ether surrounding him.

It was a long while before he received a reply. When he did, a jolt hit him at the top of his spine.

 _Greetings, old friend_ , a voice spoke in Roshi's head. It sounded old, fatherly. Warm.

"Hey Yerself, You old coot," Roshi tittered.

 _It's good to hear from you, Master._

"Pssh. Master? You flatter me," Roshi chuckled. "I'm gonna take a wild guess You've been watching what's been going on today?"

 _Indeed I have. My condolences. Goku was a wonderful man. He will be missed. I suspect not for long, given you and your friends' affinity for my treasures._

"More or less why I'm callin' You, Kami. Wanted to know if You had somethin' to do with Goku's disappearing act at the end, there."

The wise deity answered matter of factly.

 _I did. Goku is the most powerful warrior on Earth. He is too important to get lost in the shuffle of souls on the other side._

"You've got plans for 'im, then?"

 _I do. To that end, I humbly request you and your ilk do not revive him with the Dragon Balls until I inform you the time is right._

Roshi paused. He knew there was something greater at work here than simple otherworldly business.

"What's comin'? I'm guessin' there's somethin' on its way to us?"

 _I am afraid so. In the years since Lord Piccolo's reign, Earth has enjoyed relative peace. That peace has come to an end. The Saiyans are endangered, yet the interloper you all encountered was not the last. Two more have sworn revenge. They are in the far reaches of space, heading towards our planet as we speak. They will be here in one year._

Roshi sucked his lips. He sighed.

"Was afraid of somethin' like that. Damn. If I was a bettin' man, I'd say they're ten times stronger than the one we fought?"

 _At least. You would all do well to unite. Do everything in your power to muster more strength. I will do what I can to help. We have precious little time._

"I'll put out the call. Yamcha's still pretty laid up. We'll need more Senzu Beans. I'll try to get ahold of Tien, Chiaotzu, and the others."

 _Do so. I will contact Master Korin, see about getting you those beans, as well as cultivating more. You are going to need them._

"I 'spect so. Many thanks for the info, Kami. I'll keep in touch. Lemme know about Goku."

 _I shall. Dark days lie in front of us. Good luck, old friend._

Roshi felt a distinct shrinking of his awareness. It was the sensation of his aura being pulled back into his body. His elevation decreased until he touched onto the hardwood floor.

When he opened his eyes, it was fully night. He got to his feet and stretched.

"Whelp. Gotta get the band back together," he told himself as he turned and walked downstairs, eager to find any excuse he could to avoid the cleanup and rebuilding job ahead of him.

* * *

Dying felt weird. It wasn't exactly the horrendous experience he was led to believe most of his life. Even so, he wasn't in any kind of rush to do it again.

The pain beforehand was one thing. He'd endured a lot of suffering over the years, usually at the hands of some sadistic foe hell-bent on world domination. The worse part was everything you left behind. Family, friends, your home. It was more than a little traumatic. Then your soul gets sucked out of you, thrown a whole plane of existence away. That part wasn't pleasant, either.

When Goku next found himself able to understand and perceive his environment, he was standing on a platform. It was large, circular, and gray. It appeared to be afloat in an endless ocean of clouds which looked identical to the Nimbus. The sky above was a calming peach color, stretching on infinitely.

Even though this place seemed to be in a perpetual state of twilight, no stars or other astral bodies were visible in any direction. He did notice a long, twisting stone path in front of him stretching off the platform and descending into a dune of clouds far up ahead.

He placed a hand over his heart. He looked and saw the fatal wound Piccolo inflicted upon him was gone. His clothes were fresh and brand new yet retained the same design of the Turtle Hermit gi he'd been wearing prior to death. He felt boundless, full of energy, better than he had in years. He angled his head up and saw a golden halo, nearly touching the tips of his hairs. He poked at it and it bobbed from side to side with a metallic chime.

"Hello, Goku," spoke a weathered voice behind him.

The orange-clad man turned to see a being resembling Piccolo to a great degree. But where Piccolo was young and fit, this person was old and hunched over. Their skin was a paler shade of green with dark liver spots above Their pointed ears. They had on an off-white cassock decorated with ruby filigree in the design of a dragon. A navy-blue belt and collar accented the garment, a pair of brown slippers peeking from beneath it. They steadied Themselves on a tall wooden staff, its head bearing an ornate carving of a dragon—the same one displayed across Their front.

"Kami!" Goku shouted with glee. He ran over to the elderly deity and wrapped Them up in an embrace.

"Haha, it is good to see you, too. I'm dreadfully sorry for what happened to you on Earth," the Guardian commented.

"It's fine," Goku said as he pulled away from them. "I'm bummed about leaving my family, but they'll be all right."

Kami beamed.

"They shall. They are already hard at work seeking the Dragon Balls in order to return you to them."

"Makes sense," Goku laughed.

It was hard not to treat death as a revolving door when they had access to magical artifacts which could undo it on a whim. Still, dying sucked. Hopefully, this would be the only instance he'd have to endure it before he was meant to.

"As you might have imagined, I am not here out of courtesy, Goku. Nor to see you off to the great beyond."

"Oh yeah? Why are You here, then?" Goku asked, oblivious to the grave tone cropping up in Kami's voice.

"Come. Walk with me. We have much to discuss," They said as They placed an arm around Goku's shoulder and led him across the winding stone path into the heavens.

 **To Be Continued…**


	6. Season 1, Episode 5 - Plight of the

**Last Time on…**

 **Dragon Ball: Reborn**

 _Goku and Piccolo at last succeeded in defeating the alien invader Raditz, though not without paying a heavy price._

 _At Death's door, Goku was forced to bid a tearful goodbye to his family and friends. As our hero passed on to the next world, his body disintegrated, clueing Master Roshi and Piccolo in to Kami's intervention. The group decided to split up, with the Turtle Hermit returning to Kame House to commune with the deity, while the others reconvened at Bulma's._

 _Once in the safety of the Capsule Corporation headquarters, Piccolo confessed to the Z-Warriors the role they played in Goku's demise, as well as their conflicted feelings on the matter. It was then Bulma realized they could revive their friend using the power of the Dragon Balls! No sooner did she come to this conclusion than Raditz's Scouter activated, opening up a direct line of communication between his master and the Dragon Team._

 _Still reeling from Goku's passing, Bulma lashed out at the mysterious new Saiyan, boasting of their victory against his cohort. This prompted him to announce he and his attendant would be arriving on Earth to take their revenge in one year. The proclamation shocked Gohan out of his delirium, and the little one made a plea for Piccolo to teach him how to fight. Despite Chi-Chi's protests, Goku's old foe agreed to the boy's terms._

 _Elsewhere, Goku awoke in the afterlife, ready to meet whatever challenge next awaited him…_

 **Season 1, Episode 5 —**

 **"Plight of the Children"**

Goku and Kami spent roundabout twenty minutes traversing the long, winding stone path before them. Twenty minutes was only Goku's guesstimate, as there was no burning ball in the sky with which to judge the passage of time by. Who knew if time even existed or functioned in such a place? It was a concept that boggled the mind.

The path was five feet wide and dipped in and out of the endless bank of clouds. Goku wondered why it wasn't a level plane, or why it didn't at least lead in a single direction. More conundrums he couldn't begin to fathom answers to.

"So, two more Saiyans are on their way? And they'll be there in a year? That about the size of it?" Goku asked as he walked arm in arm with his resident deity.

"I am afraid so," Kami replied. Their voice possessed a quality of unflinching grace and wisdom, despite how feeble They'd gotten in recent years. "Your friend Bulma had quite the spat with the leader of the duo. She's a spirited one, to say the least."

"Yeah, sorry. She can kinda fly off the handle when she's upset. It's not her fault they're coming, is it?" Goku cringed.

"No, not at all. Once they learned of your defeat of Raditz, it was inevitable they would turn their attention to Earth. As you well know, the Saiyans' employers already had."

"Do You know who they are? Or anything about them?"

"Sadly, no. Nothing outside what you do. And what Raditz told you. He was not in my crosshairs long enough to be probed for such information," Kami confirmed with a solemn expression.

Kami was the Guardian of Earth—the closest thing to what many on said planet would consider God. Such a position carried with it several powers not accessible to mere mortals, among them a degree of all-sight. Such a talent was useful, given Their duty of watching over the entirety of the world. That said, Their prescience had its limitations.

Reading minds was not a fast, simple process. It was akin to being in a packed filing room with only the vaguest notions of where to start looking for a specific document. What's more, Their ability to see all and know all did not extend past Their dominion, leaving Them blind to goings-on elsewhere in the cosmos. Goku would soon learn Kami relied on a psychic network of shared information between otherworldly beings. This helped ascertain happenings on other planets in other star systems, should they involve Earth at any juncture.

"Y'know," Goku began with a wry smile, "I didn't really stop Raditz. All I did was create an opening. _Piccolo_ ended up being the one to take 'im down."

Kami looked Goku in the eyes. They knew what he was getting at. It was part of his nature—to always look for the burgeoning good in others. It was a quality They admired, though one that had diminished in Themselves over the past three centuries.

Witnessing Lord Piccolo's reigns firsthand, as well as the constant reminder of evil in the souls of men tended to erode one's optimism.

"That is not entirely accurate, though I do not begrudge you the error. You were passing in and out of consciousness when it happened. Your boy Gohan was, in actuality, the one who felled your brother."

"What!?" Goku blurted. The pair stopped moving.

"'Tis true. The boy has a fearsome power inside him, lurking beneath the surface. But you already knew that. He demonstrated his hidden strength a year ago, yet he does not remember it. He is every bit his father's son."

"Huh," Goku marveled. He scratched the back of his head with his free hand, befuddled as to how he could've missed the endcap to the battle with Raditz. He figured an injury as extreme as being _headless_ couldn't stop him from witnessing such an awe-inspiring moment. But who was he to doubt Kami?

Gohan. His child. His flesh and blood. Fighting for good, saving those in dire peril. Following in his dad's footsteps. He got choked up simply imagining it.

"I understand your reasoning for bolstering Piccolo," Kami continued. "While the effort is noble of you, it is ultimately wasted. I can see into the hearts, the minds of all those I survey. Piccolo has not changed, much as you may want to believe otherwise."

"Aww, really? I thought they were finally starting to come around, what with them getting buddy-buddy with Chi-Chi and helping me save Gohan again."

"Let us not forget their primary goal was to destroy you, my friend. Anything Piccolo has ever done has been in their own self-interest. That is taking into account _both_ the lives they've lived. And while being self-serving is not in itself a sin, their aim was always your final end. No matter what needed to be done to achieve it. It is a sad truth, and one you must face."

"I dunno," Goku said as he linked arms with Them again and resumed walking. "You told me a long time ago Lord Piccolo used to be Your dark half, right? That must mean, even if they were born bad, they're still part of You. And even the worst part of You has to be more good than most people."

"It…doesn't work that way, Goku," Kami said, struggling to follow the train of thought, no longer able to divine it.

Partly due to his brain injury, Goku wasn't the best at qualifying his statements. Reading his mind was always a welcome accompaniment to his speech. Sometimes it was essential to get to the real meat of what the man was trying to convey. In the here and now, They found themselves on a much more level playing field with him, since he was dead. Having transcended physical trappings, Goku's mind no longer fell under the Guardian's jurisdiction.

"If it's all the same to You, I'm gonna keep having faith in 'em. Sometimes people can change without even knowing it."

"Without _me_ even knowing it?" Kami jested.

"Sure, why not? You've said it Yourself. You're powerful. You're not _all_ -powerful."

Kami emitted a noise like a car failing to start. It went unnoticed by Their black-haired companion.

 _Only Goku would have the audacity to downplay a god's prowess without realizing it_ , the Guardian mused to Themselves.

"Say, Kami, where're we going?" the orange-clad man asked.

"You will see soon enough. We are almost there. Just over this last ridge."

"You can walk in and out of the afterlife whenever You want, _wherever_ You want, can't you? Couldn't you have teleported us where we need to be?"

"Yes. I certainly could have," Kami smirked. "Though such a thing would have robbed you of seeing said place as all others do. If I allowed us to materialize straight there, you might never have appreciated the majesty of the place."

Goku wasn't sure he got the point. He wasn't going to argue it, however. If nothing else, Kami had proven more than trustworthy as long as they'd known each other. There was always a grand design, always a plan for everything They ever said or did. It was Goku's unspoken responsibility to believe it, not contradict it.

They maintained their leisurely stroll. Goku delighted in the feeling of the peach-colored clouds breaking across his upper body and face. It was like getting hit with a soft gust of cool air. Tiny water droplets spread across his skin, refreshed him. This sensation triggered numerous questions in his head.

 _Wait, do I even have skin anymore?_

He pinched at his ribs. He felt a minute amount of pain. He supposed he did still have a body, could still feel things. He pondered then if his soul was still inside him somewhere, or if when he died his spirit somehow became tangible. Perhaps what he was walking around in was actually his essence made manifest.

It started to irritate him. He'd been in the "great beyond" for what felt like ages now, and he was still no closer to getting any answers.

The two burst through a particularly large dune of cumulus. Once they did, their ultimate destination came into full view. Goku's mouth fell open.

"A wondrous sight, is it not?" Kami chuckled.

"Wow!" exclaimed Goku.

Half a mile down the path in front of them was a pristine courtyard bordering a magnificent palace. The structure was several stories tall with many tiered roofs constructed of green and red shingles. Its high walls and the floor of the courtyard were an iridescent white, acting as something of a beacon to lead all wayward souls toward it. Goku could already feel a strange pulling sensation drawing him to the unearthly castle, though he resisted as best he could. His halo glowed brighter in response.

He felt like an insect attracted to a powerful source of light. He hoped where they were going wasn't some sort of metaphorical bug zapper.

"What is this place?" Goku wondered aloud as he planted his feet firmly beneath him.

"This is Earth's check-in station. Think of it as a sort of purgatory. A limbo, if you will. We are neither in Heaven, nor Hell. The check-in stations serve the purpose of ferrying those between the mortal world and their destined afterlife. There are countless living things in our universe. Therefore, there are a great many check-in stations throughout the untethered plane. They are all governed by one being, existing in incalculable instances of himself, simultaneously at the forefront of each of them."

"You mean…God?" Goku stammered.

"Pardon?" Kami asked, not fully comprehending the query.

"Y'know, the god that's above You?"

Kami took a moment to consider this.

"Well, I suppose he is above me. Metaphysically, and from a hierarchal standpoint. It would be incorrect to refer to him as a god, exactly. The deity which _you_ refer to? The one ruling over all others? Not even _I_ am sure They exist."

"Really? I would've thought there'd be somebody running the show up here."

"There is. And we are about to meet him. But there are several in a position lateral to his, as well as superior to him. You have much to learn about creation's pantheon, Goku."

"I guess so. Hey, what's a pantheon?"

Kami let out a sigh. This was one in a series of moments where the divine being was forced to remind Themselves Goku was Earth's greatest champion, no matter how dim he could be.

"Nevermind. Not important at this juncture."

They finished their journey at the end of the path's long descent where it met and blended into the castle grounds. Following the tractor beam-like sensation in his chest was gratifying to Goku in an odd, unexplainable sort of way.

As they stepped up to the large entryway, Goku swore he could see faint, ghostly images of others passing by him. He would catch glimpses for all of a second or two before they'd vanish. He turned his head back and forth and noticed it tended to increase and decrease the rate at which they appeared. It was as if they were traces of light, refracted through a prism.

"As I mentioned, there are untold mirrors of this place connected to different worlds, all intersecting at a single reality. All the souls you see will end up in one of the same two places. It would not be feasible to have them all come to a single check-in station," Kami explained.

Goku was about to ask another question, but Kami put up a hand to silence him. Time was becoming a factor. As opposed to Goku, Kami was well aware the flow of time didn't function as living things believed it did—not while they were dead. That fact didn't prevent the clocks from ticking on Earth.

The massive double doors in front of them slid open, revealing a single room which took up most of the palace's interior. It was spacious and sparsely furnished, save for some potted plants, a waste bin, and a gargantuan mahogany desk four times Goku's height. Atop the desk were a comically oversized rotary phone and clipboard. Sitting behind it was the single biggest man Goku ever laid eyes on. He wasn't even so sure the figure was a man, what with the magenta complexion, flowing ebony hair and beard, and set of curved horns pointed at the ceiling. The horns protruded from what appeared to be an indigo hat matching the three-piece suit he was wearing. The behemoth leaned in his office chair, adjusted his golden tie, and clicked the ballpoint pen in his grasp. The pen itself was at least as tall as Krillin.

Goku had the distinct feeling this was someone he did not want to get in a tussle with. He reminded him of his father-in-law.

 _I will do the talking. Do not speak unless spoken to_ , Goku heard in his head. Even after a decade of knowing Kami, he wasn't sure he would ever get used to the occasional telepathic communication.

"Guardian of Earth. I greet You," the thing bellowed in a cacophonous monotone. The entirety of the room reverberated with the utterance. Goku struggled not to plug his ears.

"Greetings. Goku, this is Yemma. He is chieftain of all ogres and judge of the dead. He is the being who is in every check-in station at once, perceiving and knowing all who pass through. It is he who decides who goes up and who goes down. Goku, I permit you to introduce yourself."

The Saiyan gulped and stood at attention.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Yemma! My name's Goku," he said as he performed a highly reverential bow.

"This the one You told me about, Kami?" Yemma asked. He rested his head on one colossal fist. He seemed bored by the proceedings.

"Indeed. I humbly request a stay on his judgment, noble chieftain. He sacrificed himself in battle against a great evil that befell our planet. The evildoer was only the precursor to even worse calamities. Two more forces of great strength shall be arriving within a mortal Earth year. They seek nothing short of our world's destruction. To avert such a tragedy, I beseech you to allow Goku passage on Snake Way to receive training from King Kai."

 _King who?_ Goku thought to himself, deeming it unsafe to speak up yet. If Kami heard him, They didn't show it.

Yemma mulled over Kami's proposition. He chewed on the end of his pen with teeth whose size defied description.

"Tall order, Kami. You know as well as I do the Kais don't appreciate being disturbed, much less for training. Not unless the subject in question is _particularly_ strong. Is this one such a specimen?"

"Oh my, yes. Goku is the most capable warrior on the planet Earth. His might far eclipses even mine."

Goku did a cartoonish double take. He wasn't aware of that little tidbit. Still, he would never want to go toe-to-toe with Kami, since he was pretty sure Their vast array of supernatural abilities could circumvent his own raw power and technique.

"Hmm. I don't know. If the beings on their way to Your world are as strong as You say, what makes You think King Kai's training will even make a difference?" Yemma interrogated.

"If there is anything you can count on about Goku, it is his boundless will and tenacity. He will never give up, never falter. The fate of his home, his family, his friends lies in the balance. He will attain the strength he needs to, and then some. This, I can promise."

"Aww, gee. Thanks, Kami," Goku responded, bashful, a blush reddening his cheeks.

Yemma needed to think. He twirled his gnarled pen and began to tap his foot. It was a gesture which made Goku think the whole building was going to collapse around them.

"Yemma, I beg of you. Think of all the additional paperwork you will have to do if this pair kills everyone on Earth."

Yemma rolled his eyes at the thinly-veiled bait.

"Your tricks won't work on me, Sorcerer. I'm already knee-deep in paperwork. My guess, it sounds like the couple You're referring to are from the Planet Trade. If that's the case, Your man here doesn't stand a chance. If it's any consolation, You don't need to hear my judgment to know where all them are going."

"Such is the bureaucracy of the immortal coil," Kami lamented.

"Wait, you know about the Planet Trade?" Goku interjected. Kami turned to him, wide-eyed. Yemma wasn't fazed by the outburst.

 _Goku, there is not much he does_ not _know. Control yourself_ , Kami implored mentally.

"Of course. Little empire's been keeping me up to my eyeballs in a managerial nightmare for a while, now. The one you helped stop was your…sibling, yes?" the titan asked as he studied his clipboard.

"Y-yessir. Unfortunately. I didn't know he was my brother until I met 'im. And I wanted nothing to do with 'im after I found out what his plan was."

Yemma cupped his hand to his mouth and yawned. The gesture wouldn't have come off so exaggerated on a creature of normal size.

Goku fell to his knees in supplication. He placed his hands on the red carpet and dipped his head. The halo above him tracked his movement and bobbed from side to side before becoming stationary again.

"Please, Mr. Yemma, sir. I need to get more powerful so I can help defend my home. I'll do whatever it takes. I need to meet this Kai guy, whoever he is. I need him to train me."

" _He_ is a god, young man. And King Kai will not train just anyone. He only takes on pupils who prove themselves worthy of His teachings. To do so, you must brave the long and arduous path of Snake Way. Are you up to the challenge, m'boy?"

"Yes! Definitely!" Goku shouted without a moment's hesitation, not a clue what such a commitment entailed. Kami couldn't help smiling. Begrudgingly, Yemma did as well.

The ogre watched Goku for a long while. He sensed something in the human. Spunk? Endearing stupidity? A combination of both? In any case, he couldn't help taking a liking to him. He supposed it wasn't so beneath him to do the earthlings a favor.

"All right, kid. You get your shot. Out the door behind me and to the left is the entrance to Snake Way. Better get to it."

"Th-thank you! Thank you, sir!" Goku yelled as he leaped to his feet and took off. Kami gawked as They were left in the dust. Yemma made a noise, probably a laugh. It only registered as a profound rumble in his throat. Kami stared up at the horned judge and shrugged before following in Goku's wake.

Once Kami made it out the exit, They found Goku standing, slack-jawed, gazing in shock at a huge marble snake's head. It was half the size of Yemma with yellow eyes and a gaping mouth. Behind the snake's tongue was an opening leading onto a road behind it. The road was as wide as the path leading to Yemma's castle with sharp waist-high scales flanking its sides, acting as borders. It stretched out as far as the eye could see.

"So. This is Snake Way, huh?" Goku wavered. He was petrified at the sheer size of it.

"It is. I am incapable of intruding on the space of those higher than myself on the food chain, so to speak. Otherwise, I would teleport you to the end right now."

"It's cool. I get it," Goku mumbled.

"Besides, your well of energy will expand significantly by making the pilgrimage. And it is essential to proving your worth to King Kai."

"Who is He?" asked Goku, stalling.

"There are four 'corners' in our universe, so to speak. Each one corresponds roughly to a direction. North, south, east, west. Ours is the northmost. Each corner has a Kai to watch over it, much how every planet with intelligent life possesses a Guardian. Ours is the North Kai, or as He boastfully refers to Himself, 'King Kai'."

"And He's pretty strong?"

"More than you can imagine. Though His strength is less physical and more a spiritual one. There is no telling how formidable you can become under His tutelage.

"At least there's that," nodded Goku.

He knew he should set out, take the first step. Nerves were getting to him, freezing him in place. Kami noticed his apprehension. They pointed their walking stick forward.

"It is no easy task lying ahead of you, my friend. Since you will have no mechanism by which to tell time here, you must make haste. It will take you a bare minimum of three months to reach Snake Way's end. Once you do, you will find King Kai. On the upside, being dead has its advantages. You will not run out of energy, and you need not sleep nor eat. Your form is not in the strictest sense corporeal, so it does not have the physical limitations a body does."

"Well, some good news is better than none," Goku acknowledged. "I'm gonna miss eating, though."

Kami placed a withered hand on his shoulder.

"Good luck, Goku. You may need it. Be swift. I will meet you here once your training is complete. Oh, and one more thing? Do not fall off the edge. Grave horrors await if you do."

Goku tightened his lips and clenched his fists.

It was no big deal. It was a long walk. Heck, he could fly the whole way if he wanted to (and not break a sweat, apparently). It was hardly the biggest challenge he ever faced.

 _I can do this._

He turned to Kami and regarded Them warmly.

"Thank you. Take care of yourself," Goku spoke. Kami nodded and swatted him on the back.

"Go."

With a leap and a bound, Goku took off, beginning his flight across the seemingly endless serpentine road.

* * *

Piccolo sat cross-legged two feet from Gohan. Their coat flapped in the breeze like a cape, making them appear all the more imposing and authoritative. The pair faced each other on the edge of a grass-covered ocean cliff beneath an overcast sky.

Gohan was clothed in a set of training gear modeled closely on his teacher's. Atop his gray muscle shirt was a violet gi with mauve trim. It was cinched with a thick, dark belt matching his baggy pants. His wrists were ensconced in purple athletic tape. He would've covered his palms and the webbings of his fingers, yet Piccolo insisted he wouldn't be punching anything for a while yet.

His mentor didn't care one iota what he wore; they found the boy's attention to detail vexing. They considered the overture a worthless attempt at impressing. Matching outfits weren't going to save them from the Saiyans. Identical loafers weren't going to make him any stronger. Gohan even chose to adorn a white headband to dishevel and mask his bowl cut, though this was less to earn good graces and more out of embarrassment for the hairdo his mother thrust upon him.

Piccolo raised both hands in front of them and made a pyramid of their fingers. Since recovering from the conflict with Raditz, they were able to devote the necessary faculties towards regeneration. The new arm grew in quite nicely. One would never even know it wasn't the one they were born with.

Piccolo looked up from their lap and opened their eyes. As they did, their hood blew back from their head. Their antennae and ears twitched at the fresh source of stimuli. A small orb of yellow blinked into their hands. Gohan craned his neck to get a closer look.

"This is energy. It is an extension of the fuel your body consumes to power motor functions, to do everyday tasks. It keeps you awake, invigorates your senses. Science has taught you it is a natural force inherent to you. That it can be replenished with food, rest, maintaining a healthy lifestyle. While partly true, science has yet to catch up with the exact nature of this force. Its intended applications."

Piccolo opened the triangular formation of their hands and let the ball of energy grow bigger, brighter. Gohan cooed at the sight.

"Your energy is far more than what you use to get around. It is a living, breathing lifeblood pumping through all living things. With diligence and practice, it can be harnessed as a weapon, tool, or both."

Gohan titled his head like a curious animal. He reached a hand out to the ball yet was careful not to touch it. It exuded a warmth, crackling like static against his fingertips.

"You mean, I can learn it? Regular people can? It's not something only things like you can do?"

Piccolo sneered. They did not appreciate being referred to as a "thing".

 _He's a kid. Let it go._

"Yes. All beings are capable of manipulating their energy, long as they put in the necessary work. It doesn't come easy for the uninitiated. Then again, you aren't 'regular people'. You are half-Saiyan. Doing it should be more natural for you than most, given your ancestors' penchant for great strength."

Gohan frowned. He hadn't considered he was part Saiyan. He supposed he should've accepted it as fact as soon as his father's real heritage was revealed. It was a strange feeling. A sort of biological cognitive dissonance.

"So, I'm not human?" the boy asked.

Piccolo didn't know how to react.

"Not fully, it would appear. I wouldn't worry about it too much. Thanks to astronomical luck, Saiyans are very human-like, so you pass. Especially without a tail. Unlike me."

Gohan pulled his hand away from the orb. He stared at Piccolo, more questions blooming in him like a field in spring.

"You wish you could? You wish you looked like everyone else?" the boy quizzed. Piccolo furrowed their brow.

"I suppose everyone who's different desires not to be at one point or another. Anyway, it doesn't matter. What matters is you learn how to detect and focus your energy. Do as I do."

Piccolo let the ball of light dissolve. They placed their hands on their knees, palms facing up. They closed their eyes and took long breaths. Gohan mimicked their actions.

"Close your mind. Open your heart. Feel every infinitesimal sensation around you. The cool touch of the wind. The swaying of the grass. The brushing of cloth against flesh. The smell of the air. The sound of waves crashing against the rocks. Clear your thoughts. Funnel your senses. Hear nothing but the breeze, the water, my voice and the thump of your pulse. Wait for it. Soon, you will find it."

"Find what?" Gohan whispered, his forehead knotted with effort.

"Your inner self. Another heartbeat. Your energy pulsing through you. Give it time."

Gohan did as was told. He concentrated, trying his best to stymie all the commotion in his mind. It was a feat. He never meditated before. A state of not thinking a single thing was alien to him. The closest things he'd experienced were the timeouts he was forced to endure during his few and far between hissy fits as an even younger child. The negative association only served to frustrate him, making it all the more difficult to achieve the calm, peaceful state he was aiming for.

After minutes, he blew out a mouthful of air, his face red with perspiration and discouragement. The polar opposite of what Piccolo instructed.

"You're trying too hard. If you're straining so much, you're doing something wrong."

He tried again. He shut his eyes tight, balled his fists against his thighs and steadied his breathing. Instead of making his mind a total blank, he tried focusing on one thing. Something stationary, solid, immovable. He thought of a tree. The way it swayed yet never budged from its spot rooted to the ground. He kept repeating it as a mantra in his head.

 _Tree. Tree. Tree._

The more he did it, the more he began to dissect the term and each letter within. Tree. Tree. Tree. T-R-E-E. He got to the point where the incessant repetition of a single word causes it to sound foreign and lose all meaning. This was no good. He was still intently scrutinizing _something_ as opposed to nothing, which was the goal. So much for cutting corners and finding roundabout ways of getting where he needed to be.

"I don't know if I can do this," the boy finally said. He sniffled once, twice, regained his composure. He refused to cry in front of his teacher.

"You're being too hard on yourself. You are young. No one successfully meditates on their first try, let alone learns to control their energy."

"My dad did," Gohan sighed. A single tear escaped. He quickly wiped it away with his knuckle.

Piccolo didn't know what to say. Frankly, they were astonished the boy was coaxing so much sympathy out of them. A week ago, they wouldn't have hesitated to treat the situation like a drill sergeant preparing a soldier for war. They pondered if such an approach might work better, be more beneficial in the long run. Eventually, they decided not. Much as it disgusted them, in almost all scenarios, positive reinforcement trumped negative. Then they remembered these circumstances were wholly unique, uncharted territory for them.

Seven days ago, they wouldn't have thought twice about kidnapping the kid as leverage against Goku. Or exterminating him outright.

"Your father was a few years older than you when he mastered the power inside him. Even for him, it wasn't effortless."

"Explain it to me again?" Gohan pleaded. Piccolo acquiesced.

"Your energy is a strength within you. It serves everyday functions, like making you conscious, allowing you to move, driving your thoughts. You can replenish it with food, rest, relaxation. Science would tell you it's an inherent, kinetic force. While technically correct, it's much more. It flows throughout all life, unites and binds everything. It's the one immutable building block to existence. You can bend its will to match your own. You just need practice."

This was the part Gohan was bothered by. The fact Piccolo kept disparaging science to get their point across. He was weaned on science, educated in the fundamentals of math, chemistry, and biology at three years of age by his aunt and mother. Piccolo's teachings flew in the face of everything he knew.

The simplest explanation was magic did exist. It was as real as any scientific discipline or school of thought. What really separated science and magic, anyway? In all likelihood, the two concepts probably weren't dissimilar to each other. Capsule Corp., for example, blurred the line between the possible and the impossible with their revolutionary shrinking technology pretty routinely.

Was it so outlandish to think it could all be true? He knew firsthand monsters and aliens existed. He'd been captured by each, respectively. Plus, there was no denying whatever Piccolo was, it wasn't human. And as he recently learned, his parents and their friends accepted magic as commonplace when they weren't much older than him.

 _But you don't_ know _…_

He didn't witness the battle with Raditz, in fact, blacked out during the end of it. He couldn't recall much from his abduction the previous year. And while his father's tall tales from youth were thrilling, there was no way to prove they actually happened. He didn't think his family and their friends were _liars_ , per se. And yet, he couldn't help question whether everything was as described, or if some of it was embellished for his benefit.

He could've imagined the monstrous features of his kidnappers. He knew from the astronomy books he read aliens were theoretically possible, so Raditz's arrival wasn't quite the shock it could've been. He also knew a side effect of his dad's injury was an extreme incapability of exaggerating or bending the truth, which only served to add to the boy's confusion. He now knew people could fly, too. He was still having trouble figuring out how. Piccolo said it was from energy manipulation. Gohan wasn't so sure.

 _There has to be more to it. Something I'm not getting. Something obvious, staring me right in the face._

"Let's call it a day. The sun will be going down soon. Go over that hill and collect some firewood. I'll find something edible for you," Piccolo grunted.

Gohan was filled with a mixture of relief and disappointment at the lesson's conclusion.

Less than an hour later, the sky molted its whites and grays, replacing them with bruise-colored shades of blue. Stars shimmered on, one by one. Aside from the galactic tapestry, the only source of light for miles was the duo's makeshift campfire. Roasting on a spit above it was some kind of bird, likely a seagull. It wasn't the tastiest thing Gohan ever ate, rather gamey. He was nonetheless thankful he wasn't forced to take part in killing and cooking the poor thing. The gratitude spurred an idea in him.

"Do you think any wilderness survival training might help?" Gohan asked as he cleaned the skin and meat from a glistening brown drumstick.

Piccolo shook their head. They were bathed in an orange glow from the flames. It turned their skin from a brilliant emerald to a mustard-yellow.

"No. You're not going to be in the wild by yourself. Not while I'm training you, in any case. I can't imagine such skills will be of much use against the Saiyans. Honestly, my hopes aren't high for us making it out of said battle alive. We can't afford to be wasting time teaching you things you don't need."

"Oh well. Maybe another time, then. Who knows? Could be good practice for some _real_ camping, once it's all over. If we're still around," Gohan tittered.

Piccolo turned their head away, scoffed at the implication they would ever do something so insipid as go vacationing together.

"Get it straight, kid. I'm not your pal. I'm not your friend. You are my student, and I am your teacher. For now. If we make it out of this, we go our separate ways, and maybe I don't come back to finish the job I started with your dad. Got it?" Piccolo snarled. Gohan inched away.

"Okay. Sorry," he replied, a note of sadness in his tone.

A long hush followed, punctuated by the crackle of the roaring fire.

Gohan toyed with saying more. He didn't feel like getting yelled at again. He also didn't want to spend the whole night sharing an uncomfortable silence with someone who might as well have been a stranger to him. Remembering this fact caused him to miss his parents, made the enormity of his predicament rear its ugly head.

He wasn't strong. He wasn't a fighter. He was almost five. He was way in over his head. He didn't ask Piccolo to train him because it was what he wanted, instead what he felt was right. His parents taught him early on good people didn't sit idly by and watch others suffer when they could do something about it. He knew they meant when he was older. Still, there was an overabundance of Goku hardcoded into his DNA. He felt instinctively attracted to danger, intrigue, challenge, and selflessness. They were all ingrained in him.

He needed to say something—anything to distract himself. Otherwise, he'd have to stifle more tears.

"I never thanked you. For saving me. Twice," Gohan spoke low.

Piccolo gave him a sidelong glance and twitched their nose.

"Don't mention it."

"Guessing you mean literally?" Gohan asked with a hint of sarcasm.

"If it can be helped."

Piccolo's poker face was strong, their expression steely. Nevertheless, the pint-sized fighter in-training was sure he detected the faintest shred of mirth in their response. This pleased him. He took it as unspoken permission to keep going.

"Why _did_ you save me?"

Piccolo was caught off guard by the question.

"This time or the last?"

"Both, I guess. Last time I was too young to remember much. I know some creepy guys kidnapped me. Everything's kind of blank after that. I think they wanted my hat more than they wanted me."

Piccolo uncrossed their legs and drew one up to their chest. They rested an arm upon it and cracked their neck.

"They didn't want your hat. They wanted the Dragon Ball on it. Your father was never the sharpest tool in the shed. Still, I would've figured your _mother_ would be smart enough to keep the damn thing away from you. Dragon Balls are magnets for trouble."

"Because they can grant wishes?" Gohan said with an air of incredulity.

"Precisely," Piccolo confirmed.

Of all the farfetched things he'd been told over the last several days, the legend of the Dragon Balls was a mighty pill to swallow. Since he was no longer in the presence of his grieving mother and distraught aunt, he didn't need to pretend he thought they would actually bring his father back. He wanted to believe. The faith wasn't coming easy.

"Why don't more people try to find them? You'd think everyone would want a wish granted."

"They're mystical artifacts, central to folklore the world over. Most dismiss them as nothing more than fodder for children's bedtime stories. Of the few who can separate myth from reality, most spend their entire lives seeking them out, only to die without ever discovering one.

"Whenever a wish is granted by the Dragon Balls, they scatter across the planet. Afterward, they become inert. You wouldn't be able to tell one apart from an average stone, albeit a curiously spherical one. It takes a year for them to recharge and become active once more."

"Awfully convenient," said Gohan under his breath. Piccolo chuckled.

"Wouldn't have taken the son of Goku for a skeptic. You'll see soon enough."

Gohan tossed his stripped avian bone into the fire. He stared at the undulating flames, transfixed by the heat and the movements.

"I act a lot younger when I'm around my dad."

Piccolo didn't respond. The boy kept on.

"I know he's not as smart as most people. Can't be. So, I try to act my age around him. I think I'm smarter than most of the grown-ups I've met. You can blame my aunt Bulma. And my mom. They started me reading as soon as I could walk far enough to grab a book off the shelf. I study for fun. I love making them proud of me. My dad doesn't really care. He'd rather me be a fighter. I guess me doing this would make him happy."

He was on the edge of the fire, inching closer and closer to Piccolo throughout their conversation. It did not go unnoticed.

"How many times do I need to tell you? Just because I killed your father doesn't mean I have any interest in crowning myself his replacement. Keep to yourself."

"So, what? Are we supposed to not talk? Wouldn't it be good for my training for us to get to know each other?"

"Can't see how it would make any difference," Piccolo grumbled. Gohan shook his head from side to side in an animated fashion.

"You've gotta train for the Saiyans, too. This is time you could be using to make yourself stronger. Instead, you're helping me. There's gotta be something in it for you, right? Especially if you think my dad's friends are gonna bring him back with the Dragon Balls. You shouldn't feel guilty about killing him anymore."

"Suppose that lets me off the hook, then," Piccolo said. They meant it to be threatening. They couldn't hide the lightheartedness cropping up in them.

Gohan's good nature was infectious. Unlike Goku's, it felt genuine. The product of raising someone right, rather than a concussion in a ravine to spur the bubbly disposition.

"If you were gonna call it quits, you'd have done it already. If I were you, I would've…considering how bad I did today," the boy spoke, amping up the exaggerated self-pity on his face.

"Stop talking down about yourself. Adding confidence issues to your trouble focusing will only make finding your center harder," Piccolo said without thinking.

"You _definitely_ wouldn't be saying stuff like that if you didn't care. At least a little bit," Gohan retorted, grinning ear to ear. The green one became flustered.

"I'll say one thing for certain. You don't get your conniving ways from Goku."

"C'mon. Let's talk. Please?"

Piccolo removed their coat and laid it out behind them like a blanket. They leaned back and rested their head on their palms, their elbows pointed out to their sides.

"Fine. Get your fill before I change my mind."

"Why did you save me?"

"Last time?"

"Sure."

"Your father and I found ourselves with a common enemy. His goons attacked me, attacked Kami. Wanted to take over Earth. I staked my claim on this world long ago. I felt obliged to exercise said right. Saving you happened to be a consequence of our truce and ultimate victory."

"Who's Kami?"

Piccolo shuddered. Gohan couldn't tell if it was from fear or anger. Maybe both.

"Kami is the Guardian of Earth. Your rightful God. He and your dad go way back, which doesn't win either of them any brownie points with me."

Piccolo's voice sounded as if it curdled like milk when speaking of Kami. Gohan was reluctant to poke the bear but wanted to know more.

"God, huh? My mom and dad told me about Him. They never said He had a name. Why don't you like Him?"

"It's…complicated," Piccolo breathed.

When the boy didn't say anything else, they realized he was waiting for them to go on. They emitted a low growl in the pit of their throat.

"A being very much like me arrived here centuries ago. They were cold, alone, afraid. They fended for themselves for many years. This hardened them, gave them a cynical view of their unwelcoming new home. They amassed great strength, and eventually found the Lookout—the temple of the Guardian, suspended high in the sky.

"When the being communed with God, God saw great potential in them. They saw capacity for great evil as well, due to their hard heart. This prevented God from relinquishing His title. So, the being used an ancient technique. A purification ritual. It coalesced the darkness inside them and separated it into another, distinct form. Of these two, the purified one went on to ascend the throne and become Kami. The other, twisted by circumstance of birth and their own ambition, became Lord Piccolo. The one who created me in their own image, with all their thoughts, desires, and memories."

"Lord Piccolo. Weren't they one of the ones my dad defeated?"

Gohan felt a thrum in the air. His bones rattled and the campfire almost went out. His blood froze in his veins.

Piccolo didn't move. The minor show of energy was enough to let him know this was a fine line he was on the verge of crossing.

"Yes. In quite the same violent fashion you dispatched Raditz," Piccolo rumbled, their gaze fixed on the stars. They hadn't vocalized it to anyone, but the image of Gohan bursting through the Saiyan's chest would be one to haunt their nightmares for some time. More so when their subconscious inevitably bled it into the memory of Goku doing the same to their predecessor. It was the type of remembrance which carried physical pain with it, like a phantom limb. It was a memento from their forbearer they would gladly choose to forget if possible.

"Sorry."

"Don't be. Don't ever apologize for your own strength. You did what needed to be done, whether you were aware of it or not. As you know, there is great power hidden in you. We will find its trigger. All the same, mastering your energy is key to controlling your power. A flare-up in dire straits will only take you so far."

Gohan got bold. He decided to ask a potentially dangerous question.

"Couldn't you say the same about my dad? Didn't he do what needed to be done against Lord Piccolo?"

Piccolo didn't answer him. The thrum didn't happen again, which meant they were at least letting the concept marinate.

"My dad said my uncle Krillin and his friends Yamcha and Oolong used to be bad. I'm sure he thought you could be one of the good guys, too. He was willing to let go of the past. Why can't you do the same?"

"I'm sure your dad's friends drilled into your head what a great hero he is. Defender of the weak. Protector of the innocent. Yes, your dad has saved this world on more than one occasion. But Goku is a fool who plays at being a saint. He has left more than his fair share of bodies in his wake. And nothing he's done in the name of the 'greater good' is without consequence. You'd do well to remember that."

Gohan nodded, despite Piccolo being unable to see it. Their speech suggested to him there was no small amount of hyperbole in the stories regaled by Krillin, Master Roshi, and the like. A hollow ache started to form in the space between his stomach and chest. He wondered how well he really knew his father. It was a troubling line of thinking. Gohan felt even more lost than before.

"So, everything they told me the other day…it was all a lie? They weren't superheroes? They didn't fight demons? My dad's just a murderer?"

"I didn't say that. Quite the contrary. None of the things you've heard are outright fabrications. The Dragon Balls are real. Goku did fight demons. He is also a murderer. My point is, what you've been told specifically about your father, while true, is very skewed. Meant to fit a narrative by those who love him. All I'm telling you is not to accept everything so blindly. If you take everything you hear at face value, you're bound to be disappointed someday."

Piccolo's own views were a bit skewed. Even so, Gohan felt at least a portion of this was important life advice. He took it to heart while abiding its underlying message. Whether it be stories of Goku's youth or Piccolo's jaded opinions, he needed to question all of it. He was positive even Bulma would approve of such a takeaway.

 _Accept nothing at face value. Question everything. Even Piccolo's teachings?_

Internally, the boy was still a mess of discombobulated opinions, theories, and hopes. He felt like bits and pieces were starting to make sense.

"Why did you save me this time?" Gohan asked in an attempt to squelch the myriad voices in his head for the moment.

Another silence followed.

"It was your mother."

"My mom?" Gohan responded in mid-yawn.

Fatigue crept up on him without notice. His eyelids were turning heavy with the effort of propping them open. It was surely past 9:00. Usually, he was in bed no later than 8:00. That was on a good night when Chi-Chi was feeling lenient. Plus, he did just finish eating after a mentally and emotionally taxing day.

"When she came to me, begging me to help get you back, I realized my quarrel wasn't with her. I am Lord Piccolo's mind and spirit, reincarnated. Yet, the strength of their will, their _ferocity_ seems absent from me as of late. Your mother must have a degree of psychic aptitude. I see no other way she could've known to capitalize on my weakness. She exposed a desire I have to forge my own path, create my own destiny. After dispatching your father, of course. In the end, I couldn't muster the desire to refuse her. Not when she showed me a kindness, a sincerity no one else had. The likes of which were sorely needed when Kami and I were still one."

Gohan thought he understood. It also cemented in his mind Piccolo wasn't so bad. Sure, they could be gruff, perhaps even a little mean. But all the apprehension, fear, and displacement he'd gone into this state of affairs with were gone, evaporated. He wondered if those feelings were holding him back, inhibiting his training. This made his mind race, sending a few pointed thoughts bubbling up through the haze of his need for sleep like lanterns in mist.

"Rest. We begin bright and early tomorrow," Piccolo affirmed. They rolled onto their side and folded one arm beneath their ear as a makeshift pillow. Gohan agreed, fully aware he would not be sleeping much that night.

* * *

When the sun next met the stratus, Piccolo awoke to a surge of energy. There was a thickness to the air, a tremor in the earth. At first, they thought it was merely the remnants of their dreams. Sitting up to see Gohan floating at the edge of the cliff seemed to confirm the suspicion. When they jabbed themselves with a sharp nail and felt the pain without awakening, they realized what they saw wasn't their eyes playing games with them.

It was happening. The boy found his center.

 _The kid broke through._

"Gohan, you've done it!" Piccolo shouted.

They were too distracted by the momentous step forward to chastise themselves for feeling so elated, so proud. They rushed to their feet and dashed over to the boy, careful not to approach too quick and break his concentration.

Gohan was suspended in the air, four feet off the ground. Particles of soil levitated, swirled in concentric circles a six-foot radius from his body. The blades of grass for several yards in every direction stood on end, pointed towards him. His legs dangled and kicked, incapable of finding purchase. He looked to be held by the spot where his neck met his spine as if hanging by a hook. His fists trembled at his sides, his eyes tightly clenched shut. He bared his teeth with the effort. His whole body vibrated, sweat caking his skin.

Once he heard Piccolo and their words of encouragement, Gohan opened his eyes and smiled. His exertion lessened in the process. The calm he attained caused him to float a few inches higher.

"How? You struggled so much yesterday. How did you manage to do it?" Piccolo bellowed, a genuine laugh of excitement coating their voice.

"Well, it was easy. Once I realized you were wrong," Gohan replied matter-of-factly.

Piccolo blinked several times in rapid succession, dumbfounded by the revelation.

"What?" they balked.

"You were wrong. You kept telling me controlling energy was something science hadn't caught up with yet. That was the problem. I love science. My mom and my aunt have been teaching it to me since forever. It was strange for me—to think something _everyone_ has in them and can do would be a total mystery to scientists everywhere."

Piccolo's expression of shock and bafflement didn't falter. For once, they were the one hanging on every word, urging the boy to continue his explanation.

"I was wracking my brain thinking about it. I couldn't sleep. Then, it hit me. Scientists _do_ know about energy control. It's just not what they think it is. Or what you think it is."

"Pray tell. What is it, then?" Piccolo asked, dubious.

"It's gravity."

Piccolo contorted their face, not getting it.

"Come again?"

"Gravity. You described energy as a force, existing and moving through everything in the universe, right? All living things are affected by it, yeah? I tried to think if anything like it has been studied before. If there's any analog. A precedent. Then, there it was, staring me right in the face. _Gravity_. Gravity exists everywhere, in everything. Even things in space are affected by it. It makes the universe go 'round, controls the sun, the moon, the planets. We all feel it, even if we don't notice it. It governs everything. Once I knew the two forces had to be one and the same, it all clicked. Then I started to hover."

Piccolo wasn't certain they bought into the kid's line of thinking. They didn't agree with the notion energy could be dumbed down and reduced to such a material thing when it was wholly immaterial. Taking the spirit out of the spiritual. Even so, the results spoke for themselves. Gohan was practically flying. His real training had at last begun.

Maybe there was hope after all. Piccolo started to wonder if the impending fight with the Saiyans was one they could possibly win. They decided they needed to take their own advice. Question everything. Leave no stone unturned. Abandon preconceived notions wherever possible.

Maybe Gohan had a point about letting go of the past.

* * *

"Man, this rrreeeaaalllyyy blows," Yamcha groaned.

He put his feet up on the rim of the dugout, careful not to move forward too far and risk sliding off his seat. If he did, he'd be unable to catch himself, and Krillin was too wrapped up in watching the team practice to notice.

"I know, bud. It's only eight weeks. Then, you'll be good as new and ready to train with us!" Krillin said. He always did his best to look on the bright side, to find the silver lining when someone was in a bad way. It wasn't working.

Ever since having his arms broken by Raditz, the long-haired baseball star refuted any and all attempts at positivity. The loss did more than waylay his team's winning season; it was a tremendous blow to his confidence, his self-worth. If one enemy could beat him so handily, even when his best friends and some of the strongest fighters he knew were tag-teaming them, what chance did he stand against a greater threat? Not to mention his injury put him squarely in the public eye, even more so than usual. He knew as soon as he left the West City Stadium, he'd be mobbed by entertainment reporters and paparazzi. It was bad enough having to deal with them whenever he and Bulma wanted a night out on the town, or when the Titans pulled off a harrowing victory in the eleventh hour. There was no one to blame but himself in the latter case, due to his occasional reliance on energy control to augment his speed and strength and turn the tides of a difficult game. He couldn't use his heightened abilities on a regular basis. Otherwise, he risked accusations of steroid use at best, his superhumanity being exposed at worst.

"Speak for yourself," Yamcha bemoaned while attempting to move his arms. He was mummified in off-white plaster from shoulder to wrist on both sides, his elbows pointed up. He imagined he resembled a puppet with a few strategically cut strings. "Eight weeks until I can get out of these casts. Then there'll be at least another six of physical therapy. I bet I can cut that to four if I try hard enough. You guys'll be way past me by then. I'll slow you all down. I might have to bow this one out."

Obviously, he was referring to the impending war with the Saiyans. Krillin tore his attention away from the other players doing warmups on the field to better tend to his friend.

"I mean, no one would hold it against you if you did. You've got two busted arms. There's not a whole lot you can do until they're healed. Besides, you won't be the only one. I'm sure some of the gang will show. The heavy hitters. Others won't. I'd be surprised if Nam's kept up with his training. And Bora and Upa likely won't suspend their duties of guarding Korin Tower."

"I don't _want_ to give up. I don't wanna feel useless, either. Trust me, I'm itching to train. I'd take any excuse to get away from Capsule Corp. and the media for a while."

"Well, you kinda didn't make it any easier on yourself with that tabloid stunt," Krillin chastised.

The stunt in question was Yamcha's cover story for how he broke his arms. Before getting them set in casts, he made sure to make a big show of getting drunk and climbing to the top of Capsule Corp. HQ. He intentionally threw himself off the roof. Once it was revealed he survived the plummet, he did a hasty interview to dispel any rumors it may have been an attempted suicide, rather the antics of an insane partier. The press ate it up, as it only fed into the bad boy image he cultivated for himself in the news circuit. There was a bit of drama with the Titans' owner Freddy threatening repercussions for his conduct off the field. Said posturing was always a non-start due to how essential Yamcha was to the team, which would certainly be proven in the coming weeks when they wouldn't be able to use him as their ace in the hole.

One scandal (along with a resulting PR nightmare and his sportsmanship called into question) thwarted. The flipside, of course, being the number of vultures he still needed to deal with on a daily basis, and the fact his fall from Capsule Corp. exacerbated his injuries. Since it wasn't a calculated move (as well as being _deeply_ inebriated when it happened), he didn't have the luxury of planning how he would fall, instead adding potential months to his recovery process.

"We could still use your help. So, you'll have to play a little catch-up. Nothing you haven't done before. And you're still a part of the team. Always remember, you were ours first," Krillin said as he gestured at his teammates, who were now jogging laps around the baseball diamond.

"Thanks, man. I appreciate it. I wish I took Bulma up on the offer of some Senzu when I had the chance. Then this would be a non-issue."

"Yeah, but you were brave for doing it. And who knows? It might've made the difference in the fight with Raditz. The best side of you always comes out when there're people in worse trouble. That's why we need ya."

"See? Now you're _guilting_ me into not throwing in the towel," Yamcha teased.

"You betcha," Krillin replied with a wink.

"Someone call for the Bean Daddy?" said a gruff, raspy voice from behind them. They knew it in an instant. As grating as the person attached to it was, most often his appearance carried good news and even better gifts.

Krillin spun around in his plastic seat to face their guest. Yamcha intended to do the same. Instead, he flopped out of his folding chair like a caught fish. His concern for whether his bald compatriot would catch him was not misplaced.

There was a heavyset man blocking most of the entrance to the dugout. He was between Yamcha and Krillin in height, wearing a bright orange robe-like garment which hung to his ankles, held closed with a large belt. The fabric on his shoulders was shredded, bearing gold pauldrons on either side. His thick arms were bare to his beige wristbands which matched his belt. Affixed to the belt was a crimson scabbard with a lengthy sword inside. His gigantic feet were clad in white socks and rope sandals. His pudgy face was framed by a wild mop of tousled black hair. He always made them think of a rocker who decided out of the blue to devote his life to spiritual pursuits but couldn't quite let the old habits and fashion sense die hard.

"Yajirobe!" Krillin shouted. He looked to his side and noticed Yamcha on the floor. He knelt to grab him and accidentally hoisted him up by the casts, eliciting a string of expletives and yowls of pain.

"Boy, you guys're fallin' apart over here," the rotund swordsman guffawed. He approached the duo and lent a hand pulling Yamcha to his feet.

"Been a long time, man! Tell me you've got something good for us," Yamcha said through grit teeth, biting back the soreness in his upper extremities.

"Geeze, is this how Bulma feels, always gettin' taken advantage of? It's never, 'Hey, Yajirobe! How you been? I noticed you've lost some weight!' Nah, it's always, 'Where the beans at? Come on, make with beans, Bean Daddy!'" Yajirobe yelled in indignation.

"No one calls you Bean Daddy. Only you've ever called yourself that," Krillin spoke while scratching his chin and looking off in another direction.

"See, this kinda disrespect is exactly what I'm talkin' about. I ain't giving you guys a thing until I see some warmth and kindness outta ya."

Krillin and Yamcha sighed with exasperation.

"Hello, Yajirobe. How are you doing? You sure have lost a few pounds," the pair said in complete unison, having been put through this routine on more than one occasion.

"That's better. Here," he said as he rummaged around in a brown sack with a loose tie. He withdrew a single Senzu Bean from it and flicked it at Yamcha. The large man delighted in watching the former bandit scramble on the ground for the wayward morsel. He banged his head and his casts several times during the vain attempt to find it. Finally, Krillin was forced to swallow his pride and get onto the floor to help him locate it. Once they did, Krillin popped the thing into Yamcha's mouth. He chewed the crunchy green bit with great enthusiasm.

"Well? How d'ya feel, buddy?" Krillin whispered, waiting with bated breath.

Yamcha narrowed his eyes and smiled.

"I'll show you how I feel."

The Turtle Hermit student crouched and began to yell. His bellow echoed throughout the dugout, carrying towards the rest of the stadium. All his teammates stopped what they were doing and turned their heads to see what was going on. Yamcha didn't care. A laugh became intermingled with his roar. His energy rose, built higher and higher, shook the structures around them. Yajirobe clung to a wall for dear life while Krillin watched, a grin spread across his face.

Yamcha flexed and shattered his casts. His arms blasted through their plaster tombs, looking healthier and more defined than ever. A chorus of gasps and shrieks emitted from his teammates at the sight.

"I'd say you're feeling a bit better," Krillin chortled. He patted Yamcha on the bicep. It felt like spun steel encased in flesh.

"You're welcome. Didn't hafta be a diva about it," Yajirobe muttered.

"Thank you, Yajirobe. I owe you, big time," Yamcha said as he slapped his own muscles, delighted to no end.

"Yeah, yeah. Listen. Not all I'm here for. You guys got a royal decree. Big Man told Popo to tell Korin to tell me to tell you. Anyone and everyone who's preparing to fight the Saiyans is invited to the Lookout for special training with Kami. Guys best not keep 'Em waiting."

Krillin and Yamcha ogled each other at the proposition. Among them, only Goku was ever personally invited to train in the Temple of the Guardian. This was huge. Not only was it an amazing opportunity to gain strength, it was also an incredible honor. This could very well be the leg up they needed to turn the tides of the coming battle.

"Yamcha, what say we go find Tien and Chiaotzu, bring them along?" Krillin asked with a smirk. Yamcha high-fived him in response.

"Sounds like a plan."

 **To Be Continued…**


	7. Season 1, Episode 6 - The Long Hard Road

**Last Time on…**

 **Dragon Ball: Reborn**

 _In the afterlife, Goku and Kami traveled to Earth's check-in station. As they met with the ogre chieftain, Yemma, Kami pleaded with the judge of the dead to allow a postponement of Goku's fate, as well as to grant him passage on Snake Way. Taken with Goku's endearing simple-mindedness and acts of heroism, Yemma gave his blessing. With equal parts trepidation and determination in his heart, Goku set off on his journey to find King Kai._

 _Meanwhile, Piccolo attempted to coach Gohan in harnessing his energy. Progress was slow, as the boy's budding academic mind found difficulty comprehending a mystical force flowing through all. Discouraged, the would-be warrior tried to forge a bond with Piccolo so he might better learn from them. Though resistant, the reluctant teacher gave in to conversing with their pupil, granting them a better understanding of one another. The next morning, Piccolo awoke to Gohan having made a breakthrough. The child was floating in the air, at last able to exert a degree of control over the power inside him._

 _Off in West City, Yamcha lamented his injuries from challenging Raditz. He went so far as to tell Krillin he may have to abstain from the coming battle. As if on cue, the Dragon Team's old friend Yajirobe appeared bearing Senzu Beans. He also extended to the pair a special invite from Kami. With the Saiyans steadfastly approaching, Earth's Guardian implored all those willing to fight to join Them at Their temple for further training…_

 **Season 1, Episode 6 —**

 **"The Long Hard Road"**

"Guys, we've got a problem," Bulma said as she stared into her lap.

In one hand, she held the Dragon Radar, in the other, her Capsule Copter's cyclic. She thumbed the radar's fluorescent green touchscreen and double-tapped to zoom into a glowing blip on the GPS. The device indicated the orb was right below them.

" _Great_. Is it in the water?" Chi-Chi asked with exasperation from the passenger seat. She finished zipping up her thick snow jacket and pulled on her mittens before craning her neck to see out the windshield.

These days, Chi-Chi spent most of her weeks at Capsule Corp., only returning to Mt. Paozu on the weekends to see Gohan. While confident they would succeed in wishing Goku back to life soon, Bulma insisted the still-grieving wife and mother stay with her. It was a kind offer, and one Chi-Chi happily accepted. It certainly beat being home all alone. It also afforded her the opportunity to be front and center to go out whenever a Dragon Ball was located. She was sure Goku would be proud of her, were he alive to witness her newfound taste for danger. Going on adventures like the old days was also a welcome distraction from worrying whether her son was all right.

Inside the copter with the ladies were Oolong, Puar, and Ox—Chi-Chi's father, the former baron of Fire Mountain. The man was, for all intents and purposes, a giant. It was a miracle he fit in the larger Capsule Copter Bulma brought along for the occasion. Aside from his immense height and bulk, he had a well-manicured black beard, rectangular glasses, and a hat with a set of small white horns on it, reflective of his moniker.

"What's the problem, Bulma?" Ox bellowed. Though often jovial, he was a man quite oblivious to how his own strength and timbre affected others. His speech rattled the cabin. He took up most of the cargo hold, squishing the group's talking animals into a far corner. Moreover, it was completely unnecessary to bring him. He was clumsy, excitable, and—despite being an accomplished martial artist who trained with the likes of Goku's grandfather and Master Roshi—hadn't fought anyone in years. Nevertheless, he insisted on coming. He did want to protect Chi-Chi but also needed to fulfill his sense of duty to his son-in-law.

It was undeniable his heart was in the right place.

Ox thought the world of Chi-Chi's husband. Like many of Goku's loved ones, he and Ox started off as fierce enemies. Well, fierce as enemies could be in such simpler days when the fate of humanity wasn't at stake. Ox owned a Dragon Ball then, which put him in the roving band's crosshairs. That was when being the ruler of Fire Mountain meant something. He owned a castle, held dominion over a vast chunk of land, wielded influence. None of it mattered once the Red Ribbon Army made its bid for global domination, and later Lord Piccolo. Borders between nations dissolved, former ruling dynasties and monarchs crumbled beneath the weight of cataclysmic threats. In the last decade, a paradigm shift took place, spearheaded by Capsule Corporation technology unifying the people of Earth. Ancient grudges fell by the wayside. New governments arose. Clinging to stone ramparts on an old hill felt archaic by comparison. Best to evolve with the times.

Ox couldn't argue the new era the Dragon Team helped usher in was a better one. This was why Ox wanted to be first in line to give his son-in-law aid, regardless of familial ties. He wanted him brought back as much as anyone did. In his mind, the world was, simply put, a better place with Goku in it.

"The Dragon Ball's not underwater. It's got a few protectors, though," Bulma sighed.

She angled the copter without descending. A few hundred feet beneath them was a family of polar bears, three strong. There was a cub and two gargantuan beasts, obviously the parents. For the moment, they all slept peacefully. Nestled between them atop the huge pile of white fur was the three-star ball. The infinitesimal glimmer of sunlight visible through the thick, dark clouds shone off its surface, making it appear to glow.

"That ain't good," Oolong grumbled as he squeezed past Ox's shoulder to peer out the closest window.

"What do we do now?" Puar squeaked. His tail undulated with concern.

"We press on," Bulma said as she raised her voice. It silenced everyone in the cabin.

"Guessing you've got a plan, then?" Chi-Chi prodded.

Bulma scrunched her eyebrows and blew out a mouthful of air.

"We don't have a ton of options. I'll keep this baby circling a tight perimeter. Chi'ch, you'll go out, try to sneak over and grab the ball. If they wake up, Puar and Oolong will change into something to cause a distraction while you get away."

"Why do I always gotta be bait?" Oolong snorted with indignance. Bulma ignored him.

"If things get dicey, think you can fight off a couple polar bears long enough for them to get to the copter, Ox?"

Ox nodded without hesitation. He cracked his massive knuckles, which sounded like regular-sized human bones breaking in their own right. Puar failed miserably in masking his disgust.

"All right. This is the second-to-last ball we need. Let's hop to it, everyone!" Bulma affirmed. The group continued fastening their winter clothes and prepared to exit the vehicle.

The copter's side door slid open as it banked closer to the ground. Chi-Chi parachuted out and landed in a heap of powdery snow. Soon as she got up and gathered her bearings, the parachute regressed into Oolong. His usually pink face was now beet-red from the frigid cold.

"Cripes, this is the worst! I'll take Kame House with the old fart over this any day," the long-eared pig complained. Puar floated betwixt them as the copter ascended and resumed flying around the glacier.

The Tsumisumbri mountain range was known for its subzero temperatures—a clear death sentence to most who dared venture there. Even researchers and climatologists pretty much wrote off the area. It was a virtual no man's land, hence why nature held dominion over it. They would need to do their work quickly; no number of layers or thermal clothing would save them if exposed to the elements for too long.

Chi-Chi didn't say a word. Any annoyance or nervousness previously on her face was replaced with a steely disposition. She trudged through the icy slush straight at the family of bears.

"Chi-Chi, don't you wanna think this through a little?" Puar worried as he rubbed his paws together for warmth. When the woman didn't answer him, he resigned himself to following in her stead. Oolong yanked on the drawstrings of his wool hood and scampered after them.

From thirty feet away, they could hear the bears' snores over the wind. It was a deep, booming tone which made Ox's vocalizations seem timid. The frost lining their fur glinted in the light reflecting off the Dragon Ball like a million frozen quills.

 _You've got this. You've fought in martial arts tournaments. You're a strong-willed mother. You're the baroness of Fire Mountain. The wife of Goku Son. This is a cake walk_ , Chi-Chi thought, psyching herself up as she inched on. She was methodical, careful in her step. One false move could spell disaster for them all.

She was mere feet away now. She could just about reach the ball. She dug one knee into the snow and bent forward. She sucked in the gut she didn't have as she contorted herself to avoid toppling over the admittedly adorable cub.

The gruff breathing became a chorus surrounding her, not unlike when Goku was snoring up a storm and Gohan joined them in bed, adding to the symphony. Warm, palpable puffs of steam flowed across her face. They reeked of dead fish. She wanted to gag but held it together.

 _Almost there…_

A few more inches were all she needed. She outstretched her arm, pushed it farther. She cursed herself for not having Puar or Oolong change into some sort of grabber to extend her grip with. She strained, causing the tip of her gloved hand to touch the shimmering ball.

Oolong sneezed. It was a cacophonous noise. It echoed for miles, carrying with it a requisite expulsion of snot, phlegm, and spittle. It all splashed against the mound of white in front of them, a smattering of nasal fluids all over the face of the poor baby bear. It stirred, made a pitiful noise while it convulsed, then opened its pure black eyes.

Everyone was still. Chi-Chi rotated her head to glare at the pig. He was wide-eyed, nose dripping, shivering in place.

"S-sorry," he croaked.

Chi-Chi turned to see the little one scampering up one of its parents. It snatched the Dragon Ball off in its mouth, which caused the mother and father to awaken. One at a time, they each rolled off their sides and shook the ice crystals from their fur. A miniature hailstorm bombarded the hapless intruders.

The bears blinked slow until they seemed to come online, finally registering the presence of outsiders. No one moved, save for the baby. It made a pathetic mewling sort of sound. It came out muffled, having to pass through a Dragon Ball to be heard.

Chi-Chi and her cohorts fake-smiled and did a slow wave in unison, shaking with abject terror.

The papa bear got up on his hind legs and roared. Chi-Chi couldn't remember ever hearing something louder. The blast of hot air was like standing behind a jet preparing for takeoff. The smell of chum became much more intense and nauseating. She couldn't help letting out a scream.

The bear took a swipe, though it was blocked by, of all things, a telephone pole. It hung at an angle, having fallen into the bear's path. Chi-Chi stepped away, then noticed the cartoonish pair of eyes and mouth on the structure.

"RUN!" Oolong shouted as the mama bear emitted a similar roar. She didn't need to be told twice.

Chi-Chi took off in the direction they came, then realized Puar was missing. She skidded to halt and scanned the area until she noticed a field mouse which seemed very out of place. It skittered across the snow, weaved past Oolong's pole-shaped form and underneath the legs of the bear parents. It dashed to the cub, poofed back into Puar and made a grab for the ball. He managed to get his paws around it and fought the baby in a game of tug of war.

"Puar, are you nuts!?" Oolong yelled as the papa bear continued to swipe at the pole. It landed numerous glancing blows. Thankfully, its claws weren't out yet, so the pig might walk away with naught but bruises.

The mother realized what was going on and turned her attention to her child, who was wrestling with the flying cat. She performed a headbutt and succeeded in dislodging the two. The ball flew high in the sky from the impact.

Everything happened in slow motion. Everyone present had long enough to admire the orange relic as it twisted in the firmament, briefly silhouetted by Bulma's copter soaring overhead.

The ball landed in the snow several yards away. Chi-Chi made a break for it, flanking the entanglement of animals. The baby took off in response, keen to reclaim its shiny toy. Chi-Chi was faster, but the cub was closer. It reached the bauble first and snatched it up in its mouth once more.

Chi-Chi dove and grabbed at the ball. She managed to get her hands around the protruding bit, as it was too large to fit completely in the cub's jowls. She poured all her strength into wrenching the object free from the little one's muzzle. Once she was nearly there, she realized both parents were hurtling towards her.

An enormous shadow landed between them with a thud. She could hear ice split under her. The parents planted their front paws in the snow to halt their forward momentum. They both snarled from the pits of their throats at their new aggressor.

Chi-Chi backpedaled. Once she was far enough away to distinguish objects from each other, she saw the shadow was her father. Ox proceeded to grab half his winter coat in each hairy fist and tear the garment off in one fluid motion. He gave off a cry similar in tone to the bears themselves, then charged them.

It was rare to see Ox take on an opponent similar to him in size, let alone two. It was kind of awe-inspiring. It was as if the years of being a docile grandfather hadn't dulled his edge one bit. He traded blows with the bears, his movements far more graceful and fluid than anyone would have pegged him capable of.

Chi-Chi darted her eyes. She lost the cub. She jumped to her feet and twisted every which way. At last, she spotted the babe as it ran east.

It was heading for the edge of the glacier.

"Oh no," Chi-Chi muttered.

She sprinted after it as best as she could in the boundless field of frost. She never would've guessed making her way through snow could be so tiring. She heard the whirr of the Capsule Copter's rotor as the flying machine followed. A spotlight blinked on to help guide her.

"Incoming!" Oolong yelled as he flew past her in the form of an eagle.

"Get it, Oolong!" Chi-Chi hollered as she collapsed in the snow, exhausted.

Oolong flapped harder and faster. He skimmed the air a few inches above the ground and moved his wings in concentric circles to increase his speed. He was closing in on the frightened imp.

Ox cried out in pain as the mama bear chomped on his shoulder. The papa bear reared and unsheathed its claws. He slashed downward, taking three vertical chunks out of the flesh of Ox's furry chest. Ox flexed his shoulder and spun out of the mother's bite. He sucker-punched her in the chest, then dogpiled onto the father. He drove a fist into the papa bear's stomach, leaped away and elbow dropped the mama. Once the dad started to get up, Ox met him head-on, took an armful of bear, and suplexed the beast.

Oolong caught up with the cub. He reverted to his pig form and put his gathered momentum into a tackle. The two animals rolled along the snow, which was gradually smoothing into a sheet of ice. He grabbed the ball, still nestled in the cub's mouth. They slid, fighting for it as if their lives depended on it.

"Oolong, _look out_!" Chi-Chi screamed through cupped hands from very far away.

The pig was holding the ball in one hand, desperate to find purchase on the ice with the other. They slid faster and faster until he realized they were dangerously close to plummeting off the side of the glacier. Thinking quickly, he let go of the ball and pressed both hands to the permafrost. He concentrated and morphed them into hooks. He raised himself, let out a shout, then dug deep into the ice. His inertia began to dissipate, yet the bear was still careening to its doom.

"Ah, crap!" the pig lamented. He lifted his hooks out of the ice and used them like ski poles to push himself on course with the baby. The speed at which they moved became dizzying.

He had precious seconds to get this right. If he didn't, he'd lose the ball, be at least partly responsible for killing an innocent creature, and likely be fed wholesale to its parents.

"OOLONG!" Chi-Chi shrieked.

The cub made its mewling noise again. Off in the distance, its parents were kept at bay by Ox, who was wielding a humongous bow staff, in actuality Puar. Once they heard their child's cries, they panicked, blew right past their opponent, and sped to the ice sheet's end.

At the last second, as the baby plunged off the glacier, Oolong dug his hooks in again. He came to a stop and swung his legs over the edge. His hooves plumped and grew enough to shred their way out of his pants, leaving nothing except his prized pair of frilly white panties. Free of the constrictive garment, he grit his teeth and willed his legs to elongate and intertwine with each other in an ever-lengthening, ever-tightening helix. Once long enough, his hooves ceased wrapping around each other and formed a wide, connected oval.

The makeshift lasso looped the cub's midsection and tightened, catching it. Luckily, it didn't drop the ball when snagged.

"Phew," Oolong huffed as he struggled to keep hanging on. The bear kicked and fussed in his grasp for all of a minute before resigning itself to its predicament. Oolong looked down and was about to tell the thing to quit it, then stopped. His mouth hung open in a mix of wonder, puzzlement, and horror.

Hundreds of feet below them, he expected to see the ocean, or at the very least rocks. What he saw instead was a monolithic black structure. He could tell it was big but had no earthly idea how big. Jets of steam plumed across its ridged surfaced as shavings of ice sloughed off the glacier on either side. The shape of it reminded him of a scarab. It even possessed twin bulbous shapes anyone might've mistaken for eyes. If pressed, he would've ventured a guess this thing was unearthed rather recently.

The most troubling aspect of the object wasn't that it was there. No—the most disturbing feature of the mysterious edifice was the symbol emblazoned on its roof. Two red triangles meeting at their points with a white letter R stenciled inside each.

Oolong remembered the emblem very well. He gulped as he stared at it.

"Uh, guys? Lil' help over here?" Oolong called out, returning his attention to the matter at hand.

Since Chi-Chi was nearer, she was the first to arrive. She made sure to traverse the ice carefully, so as not to slip. She grabbed Oolong's wrists and pulled with all her might. As she did, he shortened his leg lasso and drew the baby up to him.

The mama and papa bears got there next yet weren't aggressive. They trotted with claws extended so they wouldn't lose their footing on the ice and peered over the side, frantically seeking their child. They gave off the closest approximation to a sigh of relief non-sentient animals could make when they saw their cub reach the top.

The mother knelt her head and picked her baby up in her jaws by the midsection. As she did, Oolong's legs fully uncoiled and returned to him, resuming their natural state. Chi-Chi dragged him from the ice onto the snow.

Ox limped over to the group, using Puar as a walking stick. He was tired and out of breath. Despite his injuries, he had a grin of excitement plastered on his face.

"Nice save there, buddy," Ox chortled as he clapped the pig on the shoulder. He nearly crushed him in the process. Ox blushed with embarrassment.

"Watch it, ya lummox!" Oolong pouted. He turned to Chi-Chi. "Sorry, Chi'ch. I did my best."

"I know. It's okay. At least you saved the baby."

The Capsule Copter landed near them, kicking up a flurry of snow. Once the spinning blades came to a stop, a door slid open. Bulma hopped out and ran over to them.

"Everyone all right? Man, that was intense!"

Bulma's appearance distracted the group from noticing the polar bear family's approach. The mother and father got on their hind legs and kept their distance. They didn't roar or attack. The cub kept getting closer. Once the Dragon Team saw what was going on, they all huddled together, unsure how to react.

The baby regarded them for a moment before dipping its neck and dropping the Dragon Ball in the snow. It tilted its head at them, then bent again and nudged the ball at Oolong.

" _Aww_ ," Chi-Chi and Bulma cooed, misty-eyed. Oolong sat up and leaned in.

"What? For me?" the pig oinked.

"He wants to thank you!" Puar meowed, fluttering in delight.

Oolong smiled and nodded at the cub as he snatched the ball and drove it into his pocket. The mother picked up the cub in her mouth again and placed it on the father's spine as he got on all fours. The family strolled away from the gang, thankful their child was safe. Chi-Chi watched wistful, jealous of such a luxury.

"Well, I guess that could've gone worse," Bulma registered.

"I haven't felt this alive in years," Ox marveled. He went to stretch, then winced at the discomfort in his chest and shoulder. The cold was starting to get to him, too. He regretted ripping his shirt and jacket. He tended to get caught up in powerful moments where he could show off his manly vigor.

"Come on, Dad. Let's get you patched up. Great work, by the way. Maybe you should be training with the guys to help fight the Saiyans," Chi-Chi teased with a wink. She placed a hand in her father's, her small fingers dwarfed by his.

"Aw, thanks, Chi'ch. I can hold my own against a couple bears. Don't think I'd do much against any aliens. I could never even master the Kamehameha technique!"

They all made their way to the copter, laughing and celebrating a job well done, save for Oolong. He was still sitting in the snow. His sight found its way to the edge of the glacier once more, his mind filling in the blanks of what he now knew was down there.

His teeth chattered, blurring his vision and vibrating his skull. He supposed it could've been from being mostly naked from the waist down in a freezing climate. The existential dread filling his every thought told him otherwise.

"Oolong? Something the matter? You look spooked," declared Bulma.

The others paused to watch the pig. There was a long silence before anyone said anything.

Against his better judgment, Oolong figured whatever this was, it probably wasn't too important at this juncture. After all, there were two world-ending threats on the way to Earth. How could a black obelisk hidden in a bunch of ice possibly compare?

"It's nothin'. I'm fine," Oolong said as he arose to rejoin his friends.

* * *

"They've gotta be close," Krillin said as he flew alongside Yamcha over a vast forest.

The greenery went on for miles in every direction, broken only rarely by the stray hilltop or valley. The sun was setting, giving the foliage on display a distinct fall shade. It was calming, soothed the soul. There was no city noise to be heard, no hustle and bustle. One could lose themselves in such a backdrop.

Krillin was starting to understand why some of the Z-Warriors preferred the solitude, striving to stay as far from civilization as possible. It was a welcome if temporary respite from the chaos their lives had turned into as of late.

"Yeah, I can feel their energy something fierce," Yamcha grunted.

"They've always been good about hiding it. The fact we can sense them at all means they wanna be found. Or—"

Krillin corkscrewed out of the way of an uppercut. It manifested from nowhere. Either the attack shot straight up from the trees like a bullet, or the assailant was following them, throwing them off their scent like some sort of energy ventriloquist.

The body attached to the punch was heavily muscled and scarred in equal measure. The man's skin held a pinkish hue, his head as bald as Krillin's. He wore a navy-blue tank top, baggy green pants, and a set of gray vambraces. These matched the shin guards fastened to his boots. There was a smirk on his clean-shaven face. It helped frame his piercing blue eyes.

All three of them.

Krillin backflipped in the air and fired off a roundhouse kick. The man caught it at full extension and retaliated with one of his own. Krillin blocked the blow with his forearm and let loose a flare of energy in the form of a pressurized wave to separate them. Once he had some distance, he flew at the man headlong, aiming to strike him in the stomach. He retaliated with a perfectly-timed knee to Krillin's chin which sent him reeling.

Yamcha was about to rush in when a thin blue beam of light rocketed at him. He spun out of the way and chopped the small body it came from in the neck. The body looked to be the intersection between a young boy and a porcelain doll. He was three feet tall with ashen skin, doughy red cheeks, a button nose, and large eyes. He had on a navy-blue ceremonial coat with a high collar, silver fasteners, and a red belt. Black pants, yellow-trimmed shoes, and a puffy hat similar to Gohan's (sans Dragon Ball) rounded out the ensemble.

Yamcha's chop passed through the ghostly child. Soon as it did, the image faded into nothingness. He desisted moving, closed his eyes and concentrated. He waited for the surge of energy, the pulse in the air.

He ducked in time to avoid a double-kick from the actual, solid form of the boy. He passed over the bandit, who caught his ankles and swung him the direction whence he came.

Krillin traded punches and kicks with the triclops. They matched each other move for move. Their clash was broken up by the thrown child sailing between them. Yamcha zoomed after in pursuit.

"They're having fun," the three-eyed man mused. There was a stoic, authoritative quality to his voice. He was about to make another comment when a haymaker struck him in the cheek. It sent him tumbling through the air.

"Let your guard down," Krillin snickered.

"Won't happen again," the three-eyed man assured him.

Once he righted himself, the man touched his fingertips together in a triangular formation. He took deep breaths, gathering and focusing his energy into the space between his palms. Krillin stopped, an expression of shock coming over him.

"Whoa, Tien? I thought we were playing around? What're you doing?"

"Who knows? Maybe a bluff. Maybe not. You decide," Tien said with a grin.

His skin went paler, his muscles losing a bit of their mass as he concentrated. Krillin knew the move he was preparing very well. He only ever used it in the most desperate of situations, for it drew on more energy than his body was capable of containing. To compensate for the energy he didn't have, the technique used his life force itself as its main power source. It was risky, more than capable of killing him under the correct circumstances.

"Spirit… _Cannon_ ," Tien breathed.

The crackling ball of yellow in his hands grew bigger, brighter, pulling in all the light around it. Krillin was about to throw in the towel, to give up. He decided better of it.

"Fine. Callin' your bluff, big guy," Krillin said while making a swift chin movement.

Before Tien could thrust his hands and consummate the attack, Yamcha rammed him in the shoulder blades. The move shot him forward, chest pushed out. The energy in his hands dissipated and returned to him. As his body flung towards Krillin, the pint-sized fighter retaliated with a double-fisted smash, sending him the other way. Yamcha rounded out the pinball tactic with a spinning axe kick that sent Tien careening to the forest underfoot.

The three-eyed combatant was able to reorient himself prior to landing. He hit the forest floor with his fist pointed at the ground. It created an incredible percussion that toppled trees and split the earth in a wide radius. He held his pose and took a moment to rest his nerves.

His hands quaked. His muscles ached. The evening wind felt like pinpricks all across his sweat-covered form. Once he was clear-headed again, he stood from his crouched position in the small crater he'd made. Krillin and Yamcha were both standing in front of him, close but cautious.

Tien Shinhan usually oscillated between cool as a cucumber and rage-filled at the drop of a hat. He was paradoxically the most centered out of all of them yet possessed a ferocious temper. They knew to cut him some slack for it. Much of his anger came from being raised and molded into an assassin by Master Crane, Master Roshi's lifelong enemy.

For years, the Hermit and Crane schools were bitter rivals. The lifetime of violence and bloodshed to which Tien was accustomed made keeping a level head difficult. It was one of the reasons he was so terrifying in battle. Those inexperienced at controlling their energy often found anger to be a hindrance to the process. He, on the other hand, used his anger to brutal and efficient success on the battlefield, utilizing truly devastating techniques, both to his opponents and himself.

The fair-skinned child descended at a snail's pace from above. He floated beside Tien though did not touch the ground. Instead, he stayed high enough off the dirt so he wouldn't have to reach awkwardly to grab his friend's hand. As he did, he closed his eyes and hummed, using his telepathic abilities to help pacify him. His red cheeks glowed like hot coals as he did this.

 _It's okay, Tien. They're our friends. Regain your composure._

Tien let the toxic emotion escape him. A genuine smile found its way to his face. His fists unclenched.

"Thank you, Chiaotzu."

"Any time," the doll-like person replied in a high, ethereal voice.

Chiaotzu was the light in Tien's life. They were closer than brothers, in fact very near in age, though one would never believe it based on appearances. Both orphans taken in and trained by Master Crane, both masters at the art of killing. Those days were behind them now. The day they met and fought Goku was the day they split off from their cruel, sadistic teacher. Chiaotzu never regretted the decision for a moment. It was surprisingly easy for him to keep the horrors of that dark era in the past. Tien had a much rougher go of it. He found himself haunted by the things he'd done in a sadist's name when his own moral compass was pointed far from north.

Chiaotzu had dedicated the rest of his life to protecting Tien as he once protected him. This was why, whenever possible, he would stymie the larger man's outbursts with his psychic abilities. While most of the Dragon Team members excelled at energy control to augment their physical strength, defense, and martial arts skills, Chiaotzu's forte was his _natural_ gift—his power over the mind.

"Sorry about that, guys. We only meant to have a little fun, spar a bit," said Chiaotzu. He shrugged and smiled, nervous.

Krillin and Yamcha's rugged expressions melted away. They waved off the comment.

"Don't sweat it. He hits like my mother," Yamcha quipped. Tien snickered.

"You guys haven't lost your touch. Especially you, Krillin. I see peace hasn't made you any less of a worthy adversary. You still get a bit gun-shy when in the thick of it. S'pose it's to be expected," Tien mocked good-naturedly.

"Please. I was going easy on ya. Everyone knows Turtle Hermit teachings eat the Crane ones for breakfast," Krillin retorted. They all laughed.

Chiaotzu nudged Tien in the ribs while clearing his throat. Tien responded by rubbing his scalp, almost making contact with his third eye. It was a tick Yamcha was always vaguely disconcerted by.

"I'm sorry, too. I wasn't trying to scare anyone or do harm. Keeping a lid on my worser nature…it's an on-going process."

"We get it. No worries," Yamcha said, shaking away his discomfort. He patted Tien on the bare shoulder. As this happened, Krillin's flippant attitude grew more serious, grimmer. He remembered why they were here. It felt like everything these days held an undercurrent of dark portents. Life, it seemed, wouldn't allow them a simple reunion amongst friends. Not without greater machinations at play.

 _Tried it at Roshi's. Look what happened there._

"I wish we were here for a cordial visit. Not the case, unfortunately. We've been trying to find you guys for a while. Something's up."

The grin faded from Tien's face. None of the anger returned, instead replaced with concern. Chiaotzu remained airborne. He turned to Krillin and studied him. He squinted his eyes like he was trying to scan very small print.

"If you come closer, I can read your mind. I only need to touch your temples," Chiaotzu spoke. Krillin shook his head.

"Yeah, that'd probably be easier. I feel like I need to say it out loud, though. Still trying to get it all straight myself."

Tien shifted his stance. He took a few steps closer into the burgeoning moonlight. The hole he made in the forest was bathed in a blue spotlight shining from the heavens. Krillin felt an ache in his chest for not being able to forget his troubles and enjoy the moment. Even an act of careless destruction amidst a battle only made the forest exude more beauty. It was a harsh juxtaposition to what he was about to divulge.

"I dunno if you felt the fluctuating energy signatures from a few weeks ago. The really big ones?" Krillin asked.

"We did. Figured Goku was getting into another skirmish with Piccolo."

"Well, you're not wrong," Yamcha offered as an aside.

"Listen. There's a lot to tell and a lot of it is gonna be surprising. I need you to run with it for now, okay?" Krillin pleaded.

The duo nodded in unison and folded their arms. The two were in each other's heads so often, this twin act was more or less subconscious. They would regularly finish one another's sentences, say the same things at once, mimic each other's actions without thinking to do so. Krillin knew actual brothers who were less alike.

 _Goku and Raditz are good examples…_

"Goku's dead," Yamcha interjected.

Krillin crossed his eyes. Tien and Chiaotzu nearly collapsed at the revelation.

"What? _How_?" Chiaotzu said, tears welling up in him. Tien darted his gaze, processing, disbelieving.

"No. Goku? Dead? It's not possible. I mean, we sensed his energy fading at the end of the day. I assumed the fight was over and he was simply lowering his power level to its normal state. I never dreamed it went away completely…I suppose we were too wrapped up in our own training to notice," Tien faltered, his voice cracking. He wished they'd known, wished they were around to do something. If only Goku would've come to them for aid. They would've laid their lives on the line for him in a heartbeat.

"Did Piccolo do it?" Chiaotzu sniffled.

"Yes and no. There's a progression, here. I _was_ going to start at the beginning until Loudmouth over here had to butt in," Krillin sighed and punched Yamcha in the shoulder.

"Ow!" the former bandit howled. He rubbed at the sore spot and scrunched his features in protest.

"It all started when we were having a kind of reunion at Master Roshi's. We wanted to invite you guys, but it was sort of last-minute, and you aren't the easiest people to get ahold of. Anyway, the morning after we all got there, this long-haired guy named Raditz shows up on the beach asking for Goku. Turns out, this guy was Goku's long-lost older brother."

Another wave of astonishment hit the pair.

"A. A brother?" Tien mumbled.

" _Was_?" Chiaotzu wondered aloud.

"He's dead, too," Yamcha blurted. Krillin mimed a backhand in his direction.

"Will you let me tell the story?"

"Okay, fine! Geeze."

Krillin massaged the bridge of his nose, tried to abate the headache clustering there. He loved Yamcha to death yet wondered sometimes between him and Goku who bore the most brain damage.

"As crazy as it sounds, it gets worse. The guy told us a bunch of whoppers, not the least of which Goku isn't from Earth. Specifically, he's a type of alien called a Saiyan. It's one of the reasons he's always been so uncannily strong, even as a kid. They're a warrior race, and there aren't many of them left."

It was a lot to take in. Tien unfurled his arms, half-turned, and stared into the trees. Unshakable truths he'd relied on for over a decade were changing. He didn't know what to think.

"Wow. I always knew there was something different about him. What makes you so sure this Raditz was telling the truth?"

"He had a tail, just like Goku's," Yamcha said. Krillin didn't begrudge him this explanation. "He also knew about the full moon transformations. Apparently, it's a Saiyan trait. He also was able to fill in some blanks about Goku's injury."

"His injury?" Tien asked, then noticed Yamcha gesturing at his cranium. Understanding washed over him.

"Oh. I see."

"Yeah," Krillin took up again, "When Goku arrived on Earth as a baby, his grandpa Gohan found him. His head injury made him forget all his Saiyan programming, turned him into the Goku we all know and love. That's the other big thing, see. After Raditz tells us all this, he explains the last few Saiyans work for the Planet Trade. They're an organization in space. They kill all intelligent life on a planet so they can sell it to the highest bidder. He wanted Goku to join 'im. After all, it's what he was sent to Earth for."

Tien and Chiaotzu were frozen solid. They didn't move, didn't blink.

"You're. You're joking. This is all some sort of elaborate prank, isn't it?"

"'Fraid not," Krillin said flatly. "And it gets worse."

" _How_ could it get worse?" Tien balked.

"Well, when Goku refused, Raditz beat the pulp out of us and kidnapped his son. Then, Goku and Piccolo made a temporary truce like last time so they could get 'im back. 'Cept Piccolo, being Piccolo, couldn't pass up an opportunity when they saw it. They used an attack that killed both Goku and Raditz."

Silence filled the air. Fireflies danced between them all, leaving wispy trails of neon in their wake.

"Did Goku know it would happen?" Tien interrogated, a little of his anger bubbling.

"Up for debate," Yamcha answered.

"Is Goku's son all right?" Chiaotzu piped in.

"Yeah, he's fine. Far as I know, in any case. Actually, if we're getting technical here, he's the one who finished off Raditz," Krillin explained.

Chiaotzu was aghast. Tien raised an eyebrow in intrigue.

"Seriously?"

"Yeah. Kid's got Goku in 'im. Guess it means he's got Saiyan in 'im, too. It's why Piccolo's training 'im."

The pair recoiled, their eyes as white as ping pong balls.

"Say _what_?" Tien shouted.

"Gohan's gonna fight?" Chiaotzu fretted.

"Much as it'd please me to say otherwise, not the most important thing right now. The important thing is, two more Saiyans are on their way to Earth to take their revenge. Allegedly, they make Raditz a joke by comparison. They're gonna be here in less than a year. Hence why we came to find you guys. We need all hands on deck for this one. Kami's invited anyone willing to fight the Saiyans to the Lookout for special training. We wanted to know if you guys are in."

Tien's sadness, bafflement, and frustration evaporated. He became stone-faced, resolute. Chiaotzu smacked his fist with his palm and nodded in the affirmative.

"You can count us in," spoke Chiaotzu. Tien nodded.

"Awesome," Yamcha let out.

"Great. There's a silver lining here, too," Krillin added. "Bulma's got her hands on most of the Dragon Balls. When Kami gives the go-ahead, we'll use them to bring Goku back to life. Last I heard, he's training in the afterlife to help us."

"He would be," Chiaotzu acknowledged. He couldn't help but laugh. Tien sniggered.

"Ah, Goku. Well, I guess he inadvertently answered the burning question I've always had regarding whether there _is_ an afterlife."

"Coulda talked to me," Krillin chortled. Yamcha eyed him.

"I thought none of you remember anything? You and Master Roshi both said all you can recall is a white light."

"Yeah, he's right," Chiaotzu said, agreeing with Yamcha. "It's all kind of a blur. I think you need to be dead longer than we were to take anything away from it."

"In any case, we will be with you, my friends," Tien continued. "We'll finish up our training here, then make our way to the Lookout. Meet you there in, say, three days?"

Krillin and Yamcha stepped forward. They put their arms out and placed their hands on each other. Tien and Chiaotzu leaned in and followed suit.

* * *

Piccolo and Gohan hovered twenty feet off the grass at the edge of the sea cliffs they designated as their training grounds. They were both cross-legged, hands on their knees, palms up. Their eyes were closed as they focused on their breathing, the sound of the wind and the water. They acted as one, their minds and bodies temporarily in sync.

It took the boy longer than it should have to find his center. Once he knew where to look, it was simple. But realigning his beliefs in order to master the basics required some effort. Piccolo attributed this to his mother not allowing Goku to train him as early on as possible. It was no longer a problem, though meditation was the easy part. The real training was at last underway. The hardships and struggles inherent in building one's strength from the bottom up were upon him.

They began side by side. Slowly, Piccolo maneuvered until they were facing the boy, their bare back pointed at the ocean.

"Your energy is a natural force," they said. "It flows within you, but also around and through you. It envelops everything. You are a living being with the ability to control it. However, you must know whatever amount you can manipulate—no matter how much it may grow over time—pales in comparison to what's out there. Energy is vast, infinite. What's _finite_ is how much you can exert your will over it. Our goal is to increase said amount as much as we can."

Gohan nodded. He didn't make a peep. He was fully invested, hanging on Piccolo's every word.

"Do as I do."

Piccolo didn't budge, didn't change his position. Nonetheless, their body started to revolve in midair. Rather than a twirl, which would've been simpler, they elected to move in a circular motion, the stationary point being their pelvis.

Gohan sensed the action without needing to see it. He followed his instructor's direction and rotated with them.

"Open your eyes."

Gohan did. As his vision returned to him, his perfect fluid movements became less so. He wobbled and adopted a slight drift. All the external stimuli Planet Earth offered only served to distract him, to muddy his concentration. This was by design. Piccolo was seeking cracks in the armor.

"You've grown much in a short time. There's still a lot we need to do. Your stance is unsteady. You have to learn to filter out the rest of the world without the crutch of shutting it out physically. You won't be in such a serene environment when you're fighting the Saiyans. You'll be clawing and scrambling to stay alive. Maintaining your grip on your powers in those moments will prove key to your survival. Being able to remain aloft, being able to evade attacks, being able to go on offense when you think it's impossible…these things are absolutely essential to you becoming a great fighter."

Gohan was scared. It all sounded like an insurmountable task. So much to do, so much to think, so much to feel. He knew he was smart, knew he was capable. Yet, this was an order of magnitude beyond anything he ever dreamed it would be. Not to mention his young age and newness at the game made him feel such a life-threatening juggling act was impossible. He doubted himself again, wondered if he'd made a mistake in requisitioning this particular education.

"Go the opposite direction as me," Piccolo commanded.

It was slow going, but he was eventually able to do it. The two revolved in asynchronous harmony. To a passerby, they might've seemed like large, people-shaped hands on a clock's face.

A bit of Gohan's confidence returned. He was still jittery, still not in optimal alignment with his teacher. He was getting it all the same. Progress was happening. Maybe all he needed to do was adhere to Piccolo's orders with abject dedication and the finesse would trail along.

"Follow me," Piccolo spoke low.

Their body coasted away from the cliffs, out over the several-hundred-foot drop to the rocks and crashing waves. Their body continued its revolutions.

Despite his mental dedication to go with gusto mere moments ago, Gohan hesitated.

"What if I fall?" the boy mumbled.

"You're able to sense your own energy now. Once discovered, it's not an instinct one tends to lose, no matter how taxed or under strain you may be. As evidenced by your flight, you can use your energy quite proficiently. If you fall, catch yourself. That's all there is to it."

Gohan gulped. Beads of sweat glistened on his skin. He made a silent prayer to Kami, then did as he was told.

He glided to Piccolo, making a conscious effort to keep the clock-like motion going. Soon, he was free of his safety net. The vibration of his form reflected the anxiousness pumping through him. His pulse thrummed, made the veins in his forehead bulge, so powerfully he was sure it could be heard, felt for miles. Piccolo's ears twitched at the sensation.

"Breathe. You will be all right."

Somehow, Piccolo's words comforted him. Perhaps it was because they were normally such a stern, gruff individual. Seeing a moment of tenderness from them, no matter how brief, was heartening. It let him know they cared, if only a little.

Piccolo ended their motion. Gohan did the same. The two were upside down, staring directly at one another. Gohan's hair was growing quite long, so he relished it falling away from his face. He supposed he would have to ask his mom for a trim next time he was home, though hopefully not another bowl cut.

"Ready for your next lesson?" Piccolo asked. Gohan tightened his lips and braced himself.

"Ready as I'll ever be."

"Good. As I said, fighting on the level of your father and his cohorts—the level I know you can achieve—requires a large degree of multitasking. You need to feel the intricacies of the different energies surrounding you. Who they belong to. If they're a threat. If they're in flux, and if so, how. You need to constantly be on guard. Be aware of your opponents' mannerisms, learn their tells. Only then will you be able to exploit them and ensure victory. You also need to keep your own energy in check. It's a multi-faceted discipline. Managing your stamina, knowing your limits, exceeding them when necessary. On top of it all, you're going to have a foe coming at you for your blood. Above all else, you must retain focus when in the heat of battle. The difference between keeping your cool and having a handle on your power consumption is the difference between life and death. Understand?"

"I think so," Gohan fibbed.

It was all so much. The sheer breadth of what he was required to do to not be murdered was flabbergasting. His breathing grew quick, labored as he dwelled on thoughts of failing, of distraction being the end of him.

His flight path was more erratic than before. Piccolo either didn't notice or didn't pay it any attention.

"Excellent. Now, for the test."

Piccolo threw a punch. Gohan saw it a fraction of a second before it happened. He pulled his head to the side and narrowly evaded it. Piccolo's arm whiffed past his ear, so close he could hear the alternating pink and green muscles coiling next to him.

"What're you doing?" the child called out in fear. He didn't fall, but he was no longer on an equal plane with his master, in fact sluggishly traveling away from them.

"Trial by fire, kid. No amount of explanation is going to prepare you for the inevitable. The best learning is accomplished by doing. Prepare yourself!" the green one growled. They zoomed forward and kicked straight at Gohan's face. The boy barely managed to duck under the strike and swam through the air behind his attacker.

"I'm not ready!" he cried in protest. Piccolo spun around.

"Your dodges say otherwise. You don't need a foundational knowledge in martial arts to keep from getting hit. Not while you're airborne. Keep it up!"

Piccolo cartwheeled on nothing and hurled themselves at Gohan. The boy pirouetted out of the way of another set of kicks, then reversed towards the cliffs. He knew he would feel so much more secure, so much more in control if he could just be a short drop over solid ground, rather than the watery grave surely awaiting him if he kept this going.

Piccolo noticed what he was doing and bulleted at him. Gohan emitted a series of whimpers and groans as Piccolo stopped on a dime, inches from him. They performed a sideways chop aimed right at Gohan's throat.

The boy's altitude dropped. His eyes crossed as he looked up and saw the green hand whizz through a lock of his hair and a layer of skin on his forehead. A minuscule jet of blood arced away from him.

Piccolo's teeth were bared. Their brow was knotted in fury. Gohan couldn't tell if they were trying to psych him out for the purposes of training or if something overtook them. No matter the case, tears spilled forth from the boy as he was painfully reminded of exactly that. He was a boy. Not a man. Not a warrior. A child, practically five years old. He was in over his head. The severity of the mistake he made in undertaking this very adult endeavor was hitting him, full bore. He cried harder, wanting nothing more than to go home and forget about all this.

"Stop crying! Don't be weak! You think the Saiyans will care for a second you're a kid? No, they'll kill you dead like everyone else on this planet. Unless you. Stop them," Piccolo rumbled, their voice growing deeper, more menacing.

"I don't wanna do this anymore!" Gohan screamed, his face wet and red and stinging. Blood dribbled from his hairline, over his eyebrow, into his eyelashes. He tried to wipe it away with one knuckle. He only succeeded in obscuring his own vision, tinting everything a garish shade of maroon.

"Too bad!" Piccolo boomed.

They threw another punch. This time, Gohan instinctively put up both his arms in an X shape. It successfully shielded his chest and face.

Piccolo's fist slammed the outside of his wrists. It felt like getting hit by a car, he imagined. He wasn't sure how his arms weren't broken, though positive there'd be an ugly bruise there before long.

"That's the way. Block! Use your energy!" Piccolo bellowed. A maniacal laugh was rising up in them, bolstering their attacks with a sick sort of glee.

More blows smacked and battered the flesh of his forearms. Gohan tried his hardest to concentrate, to redirect some of the energy keeping him aloft and use it to cushion himself. It worked. Piccolo's strikes were beginning to hurt less and less. Soon, he only felt the pressure of impact versus all the pain and tissue damage normally associated with such an assault. Piccolo responded by making their efforts more vicious, putting more and more power into each throw of hands, of feet. The air rippled between them, sparks of a nature Gohan couldn't quantify firing out.

"Your energy is your greatest tool," Piccolo huffed amidst the barrage. "You can use it to fly. To augment attacks. To boost defense. To move faster, be stronger. But it's only as strong as your will!"

They knew they should've been pulling their punches, going easy on the kid. Something was indeed clambering up from the depths of them. A tenacity, a thirst for violence the likes of which they hadn't known since the day they took Goku's life. They believed it was Lord Piccolo's influence. The dark part of their psyche reminding them their mind, their body, their resolve was never their own. They were equal parts puppet and vessel. And here they were, tutoring the offspring of their greatest foe. For what? To save a planet they had no attachment to? To atone for feelings of guilt they shouldn't be feeling in the first place?

Piccolo seethed. Saliva frothed in their mouth, foamed at the corners of their lips. Their energy rose, muscles bulged. The sky grew thicker, cloudier around them. Their antennae straightened, gravitated towards their target, ears bent.

Piccolo hollered at the top of their lungs and delivered a devastating strike. The shield of invisible energy Gohan built to absorb punishment shattered easier than glass. Shards of light and refracted pieces of the environment blew outwards as if someone tossed a grenade into a hall of mirrors. Piccolo's fist continued past the broken barricade, struck Gohan in the stomach, and sent him careening at an angle. He landed in the side of the sea cliffs, embedded in the rock with a tremendous crash. Boulders splintered and crumbled from the surface and rained into the ocean. A cloud of dust plumed out from the area.

Gohan's energy signature disappeared.

Piccolo held their posture in the air, arm still extended. They took in harsh, ragged breaths, perspiration pouring from their emerald skin. As their heartbeat slowed and their fury subsided, the enormity of what they did dawned on them.

 _You killed him._

"Gohan?" Piccolo called out.

They relinquished their fighting pose and hunched their shoulders. They turned their head, used their enhanced hearing to listen for any signs of life. All they could hear was sediment shifting, plunking into the water.

No breath. No words. No nothing.

"Gohan!" Piccolo repeated, more frantic.

They sped over to the newly-formed depression in the crag and scanned. Once the dust settled, they spotted the kid. He was wholly encased in stone, blood oozing from his nose, mouth, scalp, and ears.

At best, he had a concussion and several broken bones. At worst, he was a corpse. The second member of the Son family they'd murdered.

"Damn it all. C'mon, wake up, kid," Piccolo muttered as they dug and pulled at the child's granite tomb.

They wanted to grab him by the shoulders, shake him conscious, yank him out. They forced themselves not to, sure if they did, they would only exacerbate what was already a litany of grievous wounds.

If they followed their own teachings and paid closer attention to their surroundings, they might've noticed the well of rising energy sooner.

"Gohan. _Gohan_. Wake up. You're all right. You're okay. Wake. _Up_ ," Piccolo groaned.

They couldn't tell if they were more annoyed or more worried the kid wasn't responding. The fact the latter was even a possibility revolted them. So disgusted were they at the idea of harboring guilt or empathy for anyone or anything, they failed to see the boy's fingers curling into fists.

Gohan's eyes snapped open. Piccolo jumped, startled by the development.

"Gohan? Gohan, how do you feel?" Piccolo questioned. They waved a hand in front of his face, seeking any recognition from him.

Gohan stared past Piccolo. His eyes narrowed. His lips curled away from his teeth. His blood boiled.

"Uh. Kid?" Piccolo fumbled.

Gohan shrieked. It was a long, sustained, ear-splitting type of sound. Piccolo recoiled and covered their ears. An explosion of rock followed the noise.

Piccolo backed away from the crater to avoid the veritable shower of pulverized gravel. The held note continued unabated. It got louder and more thunderous with each passing second, commensurate with the child's steadily increasing energy.

"What in the world!?" Piccolo yelled to no one in particular.

The waves of the ocean were flowing in the opposite direction, away from the cliffs and Gohan. It was getting difficult for Piccolo to breathe. The oxygen turned thick, soupy, hot with raw power, a massive, high-pressure dome exuding from the boy.

 _How is this possible?_

The vocalization trailed off. Piccolo took their hands off their ears and opened their eyes for the first time in what felt like minutes. The sky was noticeably blacker, even though it was still daylight. It reminded them of whenever the Dragon Balls were gathered. For a moment, they stopped to wonder if someone _did_ summon the Eternal Dragon. Then they realized the darkness was coalescing around and exuding from Gohan. The gravitational force of his energy was bending the light spectrum, pulling color and vivacity straight from the atmosphere itself.

Gohan burst from the cliff and soared at Piccolo. Before the green one could even think to mount a defense, Gohan was already in front of them, executing punches and kicks to their abdomen so fast they could hardly track the movements.

Gohan screeched again and closed fist backhanded Piccolo. The shock was strong enough to send them hurtling to the edge of the energy dome. The warping gravity caused their body to curve in its trajectory, sending them spinning to the grassy edge of the bluff.

 _The kid's already stronger than Raditz!_

Piccolo landed on their backbone like a sack of bricks. Earth ejected into the air around them. They tried to get up, but Gohan was already on top of them. He palmed Piccolo's face and sprinted faster than any normal human could. He dragged Piccolo through the ground, creating a trench with their body, then pitched his teacher like a fastball into the trunk of a nearby tree. It splintered into a hail of wood shrapnel.

"Gohan, stop!" Piccolo beseeched as they crumpled to the floor.

He was still many yards away, taking his time approaching. This gave Piccolo enough room to gather their bearings. They made it to their feet and raised their power level.

Gohan paused. A billowing aura of energy followed him wherever he went. It was white-hot like the sun, occasionally displaying a flare of reddish-gold. His hair stood on end from the static and charged particles.

"Gohan! You need to relax. You're not in danger," Piccolo spoke, trying their best to be heard. Their words were meaningless consonants to the enraged child.

Gohan knelt forward and placed his hands on the flapping blades of grass. He took off running on all fours like a wild, feral animal. He was on a direct course for Piccolo.

 _Fine. Have it your way._

Piccolo roared from the pit of their throat. Their power continued to increase dramatically. They stared down the oncoming locomotive of newly-minted strength which was Gohan. They felt like a bullfighter, taunting a majestic creature with nothing save a cape and sword to guard themselves. Luckily, they were a trained expert in combat and battle tactics. If they couldn't take this kid out, they deserved what was coming to them.

Amid all the chaos of the scene before them, they pondered if this was the end of the line, they likely deserved what happened next, regardless.

At the last second, Gohan leaped at Piccolo, hands out in a clawed formation.

Piccolo half-stepped into the attack and managed to seize Gohan by the wrists. They locked their knees and took Gohan to the ground yet didn't retaliate. They kept a firm grip on his black and blue arms, only applying enough pressure to keep the boy in place.

"GOHAN!" Piccolo yelled, face-to-face with their student.

A hint of recognition fluttered across his visage. He shook it away.

Gohan lifted his legs and planted his feet into Piccolo's collarbone. The pain was searing. They realized the brat was trying to use their own hold against them and yank their arms out of their sockets.

"Gohan, listen to me," Piccolo said, lowering their voice, trying another approach. "Listen! It's me. It's Piccolo. I'm not going to hurt you. I'm sorry. I'm sorry for before. I was only trying to help," the green one chanted.

It was working. The strength in Gohan's legs was giving out, his resistance lessening. The air was regaining breathability. Light was returning to the area. This was good. He was starting to calm down.

"I'm sorry," Piccolo repeated.

As Gohan's knees bent, Piccolo inched their head closer. They let Gohan's legs return to the ground. They still held his wrists tight, although pressing on the bruises was no longer necessary to control the situation.

The life reappeared in Gohan's eyes. He stopped fighting the hold, instead fell to his knees in the grass. The crimson golden aura dissipated. The boy began to cry hysterically.

"I'm sorry, Gohan. I'm sorry," Piccolo said again. They were surprised how much they meant it. They released his wrists and moved their hands to his shoulders. "I don't know what came over me."

"You don't know what came over _you_? What came over _me_!?" Gohan sobbed.

He was shaking violently in Piccolo's grasp, more terrified than he'd ever been.

"You remember?" Piccolo asked. They blinked a few times, puzzle pieces falling into place in front of them. "When last something like this happened, you defeated Raditz. You were only able to recollect flashes afterward. Do you remember, now?"

"You. You h-h-hit me," Gohan croaked. "Then. I. I g-got mad. It all feels like. Like a bad dream."

Gohan cried harder. He collapsed into Piccolo's chest. The skin felt cold and leathery. It wasn't very comforting.

Piccolo didn't know how to react. They were as still as a cadaver, hands spread-out, mouth agape. Seeing no other alternative, Piccolo relinquished themselves to closing their arms around the boy. They patted his back, rested their chin on his head.

"It's all right, kid. You're okay. I won't do that again. You're safe," they breathed, unsure where this outpouring of sudden emotion was originating from. Their throat felt tight, their heart heavy. For reasons they could not fathom, holding the boy and doing what they could to console him felt good. Felt right.

The voice rising up in them from earlier, feeding off their malice, their hate? It was that of their progenitor, vying for control, trying to goad them into being what they always should have been. But as Gohan's tears soaked their chest, Lord Piccolo's voice sounded so very small now. Like the hum of a fly in the background.

* * *

Hours later, night was upon them. While Gohan sat at the campfire recuperating, Piccolo was two miles away, crouching in mud as ocean brine lapped against their ankles.

They never caught a fish before, and the task was proving more difficult than they anticipated. They supposed this was the reason people often used poles, hooks, twine, and other such implements to get the job done. If they didn't have something within the next twenty minutes, they decided they would settle for another meal of the avian variety. They didn't want to give up so easily, however. They figured the kid deserved a dinner of a higher caliber after the ringer they put him through.

"Greetings, Piccolo."

Piccolo straightened immediately. They didn't turn around, instead held their place at the shoreline.

The words belonged to someone they hadn't spoken to in many years. So much the better, in both their opinions.

"What do you want?" Piccolo barked. Their nostrils flared, ears folded as if threatened.

"To talk. Will you do me that courtesy?" asked Kami.

"We have nothing to discuss," Piccolo breathed.

They about faced and strode out of the water, past the deity. Kami stuck out Their walking stick and pinned it to the large boulder beside Piccolo, blocking their easy escape with the dragon-shaped head of the staff.

"I beg to differ," Kami said. According to the Guardian, this was not negotiable. Piccolo still felt like resisting.

"I'll kill you where you stand," Piccolo warned. Kami laughed.

"And kill yourself as well? I think not."

Piccolo spat at the sand. Kami shook Their head.

"Please. Indulge me. I already have a fair number of lesions from your spat with Gohan, earlier."

"Happy to hear it," Piccolo chuckled, a cruel smile on their face. Kami lowered Their staff.

A hush permeated. The two locked eyes, saying nothing for quite a while. Piccolo could scarcely comprehend sharing a beach with a god could feel so mundane, so unremarkable.

"The boy has attained much strength," Kami said, breaking the uncomfortable silence. Piccolo folded their arms and leaned against the rock.

"Yeah. Nothing he didn't already have in him."

"No argument. Yet you have brought out a fair amount of it."

"What're you gonna do? Chastise me for not handling him with kid gloves? We're preparing for war. Not that you'd understand what it's like."

"I have fought my fair share of them. Not to mention watched the people of this world fight more than I can count," Kami replied.

"All while you've stood by in your ivory tower," Piccolo antagonized. "What good are you? What purpose does the Guardian actually—"

Piccolo clasped a hand to their hip. They saw Kami digging Their needle-like nails into Their own flesh. Piccolo felt the sensation, knew it hurt, and was unnerved by the deity's lack of reaction to it.

"I may not be strong enough to lay hands on you anymore. But do not fool yourself into believing you are the only one with power," said Kami.

They removed the nails from Their side. A bloom of violet blood soaked Their cassock. Piccolo's own hip felt as if it'd been prodded with daggers.

"Point made. What do you want?"

"As I said, to talk. Preferably with a little less hostility this time."

Piccolo grumbled and retook their stance against the boulder.

"All right, I admit it. I was hard on the kid, okay? I assumed teaching him how to control his energy would be difficult. I knew there was power hidden in him. I had no idea how much."

"Mostly true. You initially believed teaching him would be easy. You rationalized this with the knowledge he is half-Saiyan. Once he struggled, you scaled your efforts accordingly. After his breakthrough, you considered him a prodigy. You expected too much of him."

"Is this what you're here for? To criticize my teaching methods? I already said I was wrong, apologized to the kid. I'm even trying to catch a damn fish for him to make up for it!" Piccolo shouted and kicked at the water. They made sure to kick away from Kami. They didn't feel like getting another demonstration of their linked fates.

"Far from it. I am surprised to say teaching suits you, Piccolo. You only need to find a balance, as does Gohan. He requires a strong hand. But he is also without a father's love. You saw to that."

Piccolo rolled their eyes.

"I've beaten myself up enough for it, all right? I don't need the third-degree from you, too. And I don't care what anyone says, I'm _not_ this kid's dad."

"Yes. I can see," Kami remarked. "You are not his father. And you _have_ given yourself a requisite amount of grief for killing Goku."

They stopped talking, stopped instigating. They tilted Their gaze and watched Piccolo with a curious expression. Piccolo noted the odd sensation of ants crawling around his scalp. A sort of tickle. They didn't like it.

"Get out of my head," Piccolo advised.

"I am not reading your mind. I am observing."

"S'about all you're good for."

The corners of Kami's mouth curled.

"You have grown stronger as well."

Piccolo didn't want to dignify the comment, though was perplexed by it.

"How do you figure? I've been doing nothing but training the brat for the past month. I haven't so much as thrown a punch until today," Piccolo replied.

"Your inner turmoil is vast, Piccolo. Nowadays, you are constantly at odds with yourself. Pitting your inner demons against the new feelings inside you. Things you did not believe you were capable of. I am beginning to think Goku may have been right about you."

Piccolo shifted and stepped up to their other half.

"Right about what? And you didn't answer my question. How have I gotten stronger?"

Kami chuckled.

"It is plain as day, and yet you do not see. Training someone else? Pouring all your efforts into bettering someone else? It has a feedback effect. Making Gohan stronger is making you stronger as well," Kami said while pointing to Piccolo's solar plexus.

"That's ridiculous," Piccolo whispered, unconvinced it was, arguing for argument's sake.

"It is true," Kami went on. "Keep up the good work. There is still much to do. When you two feel you are ready, join us at the Lookout."

Kami began to walk away. Piccolo didn't follow, though found themselves wanting to know more, much to their chagrin.

"Wait! What was Goku right about?" Piccolo called out.

Kami stopped though didn't turn.

"He thought you were becoming a better person. That there is good in you after all. I called it impossible, given you are the reincarnation of Lord Piccolo. Maybe things are not always as they appear. Maybe you are less tied to them than I once believed. It seems Goku is wiser than most give him credit for."

"The hell you say," Piccolo spoke, absentminded.

Their awareness was only peripherally in the now, in the moment. Their mind was far, far away. This train of thought would toy with them for some time.

Kami gestured at a spot in the water with Their walking stick.

"Try here, maybe a few feet further out. The fish are fatter, more sluggish. Should taste better, too," the Guardian said before fading away, ghost-like and haunting as always.

Of all the things Goku anticipated might befall him whilst making an impossibly long trek over an impossibly long road in the impossibly big afterlife, one thing he didn't expect was the mind-numbing, inescapable, soul-eroding boredom.

Flying endlessly without needing to worry about consuming energy kept him occupied longer than it should have for someone so accustomed to flight in their daily life. Once the novelty wore off, the real difficulty of his journey set in.

It wasn't so much it would take him a minimum of three months to make the pilgrimage on Snake Way. The distance itself wasn't what was getting to him. It was the landscape refusing to change. The twists and turns and coils in the serpentine path repeating in a cyclical, rhythmic fashion. This indicated it was actually built, not conjured by some unfathomable architect. Patterns meant there was thought put into it, a conceivable mind attached to the design, therefore demystifying it.

Goku's dilemma was made all the worse by being incapable of telling time. He had no earthly idea how long he'd been dead, how long he'd been traveling, how far there was left to go. It was maddening.

After a while, he started doing tricks to entertain himself. Bouncing like a ball on each bend in the road. Not flying for long stretches and making his way entirely via backflips. At one point, he even got low to the ground and tried to crab walk at high speeds to stay amused. Doing so was as difficult a feat as it sounded. He almost fell off the edge of the road twice.

At the moment, Goku was occupying his mind by flying as fast as possible, arms out. He spun in the air like a pinwheel and soared under and over the road wherever he could. It was getting tiresome; not physically, instead mentally.

 _Can someone who's already dead die again of boredom?_

He closed his eyes as he flew. That was nice. Despite his recent inability to get exhausted from exertion or energy consumption, he missed sleeping. The feeling of getting into a warm bed on a cold day, snuggling up next to Chi-Chi and Gohan, burying his face in his feathery pillow. He yearned to kick back and enjoy being alive once more. It saddened him to know such a thing was still far beyond the horizon. Much as he loved fighting and training and fighting some more, he enjoyed his lazy days just as much. They reminded him of when he was young, when he had no one around except his grandpa. Everything was simpler then. Even after his grandpa died, he still felt a measure of peace in those woods, on that mountain, even if said peace was commingled with loneliness.

Lost in memory, Goku realized he hadn't seen anything for what felt like an alarming span of time. Once he opened his eyes, he immediately registered the blue ogre on his knees atop Snake Way. He was around Goku's size, not a giant like Yemma. His skin was sky-blue. He wore a suit with the sleeves and cuffs of his pants rolled. He was holding a trowel, smoothing out what looked like a moist patch of fresh cement. The ogre saw Goku at the same instance the Saiyan saw him.

They were about to collide with each other.

Goku barrel rolled out of the way. The ogre covered his face with his hands and screeched. Rather than plow into him and potentially smash him like a bug against a windshield, Goku crashed through a portion of Snake Way. He struck headfirst, a huge chunk of the road blasting apart from the force.

Goku was out like a light.

His body continued on past a loop of road, gradually losing speed and altitude. He missed landing on the next section. Instead, he fell through the clouds and off Snake Way completely.

He fell. And fell. And fell, and fell, and fell. As he plunged through the cream-colored clouds, they took on a more gruesome shade. Lightning coursed around him. His descent picked up the speed he lost when meeting pavement. Heat built up around his arms and legs and chest as if he were reentering Earth's atmosphere. He was still knocked out, otherwise, he would've begun flailing and screaming long ago.

When Goku finally awoke, nothing was familiar to him. He sat up in a massive basin created by his own body. Everything hurt. He winced away the aches, wondering why he was even having them, and stood.

A mountain range was visible in every direction. The sky was blood-red and in a state of perpetual thunderstorm. The ground was porous and claylike. He climbed from the crater and cried out.

"Hello? Anyone there? HELLO!" Goku shouted through cupped hands.

His voice seemed to echo forever. Nothing returned his call. Nothing, save for the wail of the wind.

 _Uh-oh…_

"HELLO?" Goku yelled again, getting more and more frantic.

This was bad. Really bad. The first and foremost thing Kami warned him about was not to fall off Snake Way. He didn't think it was a difficult proposition when They said it. He was also starting to realize he didn't take the warning as seriously as he should have.

Goku wandered around aimlessly. He had no idea where he was. He wondered if this place was an extension of Purgatory, or if there was a way back to Yemma's castle. Such a setback would be terrible, but it beat most any alternative.

It was disconcerting he hadn't come across any other people yet.

" _HELLO_!?" he tried once more.

He stared at his feet listlessly, pondering what to do. Then he noticed the faces forming in the ground below him. Faces contorted in horror and anguish.

Goku yelped with fright and ran to outrun the monstrosities. Then the revelation hit him the phenomenon wasn't following him, wasn't reacting to his presence. It was everywhere. All the earth for miles upon miles was made up of twisted, agonized faces begging for help.

He looked into the sky and saw what he first mistook for meteors raining down upon the pockmarked landscape. Only after further reflection did he come to realize each one was a body like his.

Goku thought he knew what this place was.

He took off from the ground and sped at the sky. He knew he was in bad shape. If he could just make it up to Snake Way, everything would be okay.

He broke the cloud bank, weaved in and out of the way of lightning bolts, was so close to the surface he could taste it.

He slammed into some sort of ceiling he could not see. The speed at which he was moving, he should've crashed right through like the piece of Snake Way he'd taken out, no matter how strong or solid it was. Instead, he fell back to the gnarled, horrible plane below. Fortunately, he was awake for it this instance and managed to catch himself in freefall.

 _Oh no. Goku, what did you do?_

He couldn't remember when last he was so close to crying. He never felt fear like this. Being scared, being concerned for the safety of his wife, his son, his friends was one thing. This was a different, ingrained, primordial type of terror the likes of which he never experienced.

He sniffled and got up from the crouch he landed in. He wiped his eyes with his knuckles, then thought he was hallucinating. In the distance, someone was walking towards him.

They were so far away, he could hardly make out their shape. He was pretty sure it was a person. He saw what looked like a ragged brown cloak draped around them, and something spiky on their head. He prayed to Kami they were friendly.

"Hey! Hello? Can you help me? I was on Snake Way and I accidentally fell off!" Goku shouted at the top of his lungs.

The figure in the distance stopped. They stared him down. Goku waited a few seconds, unsure if his speech was audible.

"Hello? Can you hear me? Can you—"

The figure was right in front of Goku, delivering a knee to his midsection that felt like getting hit by a train. He flew backward with the strike and landed spine-first in the side of the closest mountain. The assailant traveled with him. Rock folded in on Goku with his impact. He coughed a mouthful of saliva, wanting to vomit, painfully aware he couldn't.

Goku gripped the knee in both hands and angled his head to see the face of his attacker. Once his vision came into focus, he caught his breath in shock. His veins seized, blood running cold.

"Hello, brother. Welcome to Hell," Raditz cackled, mania filling his vacant eyes.

 **To Be Continued…**


End file.
